


Captive

by TimeladyA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Captivity, Character Death more or less, Gen, Gerard and the Darach are in Cahoots, Hale Pack, Magic, Nemeton Freeform, Original Witch Character - Freeform, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles kidnapped, Witch Claudia Stilinski, Witch Stiles Stilinski, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeladyA/pseuds/TimeladyA
Summary: Stiles vanishes on the lacrosse field and is missing for almost a full year. When he comes back, he is different and a threat follows him.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is not something I do often but here goes. This takes place at the game where Jackson is still a Kanima. I may take a few liberties here and there so bear with me.
> 
> Also, I do not own any of the awesome characters from Teen Wolf, that honour belongs to Jeff Davis

The Sheriff was working late when the call came in. The call would have to him anyway if it had been about another person, he was the sheriff after all and missing persons cases were a part of his scope of work. This one came in through his cellphone.  
  
He rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes and read the caller ID that identified Melissa as the caller. She called every few days to check up on him.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
She jumped straight into conversation mode, “Noah, you need to come down to the hospital as soon as possible.”  
  
He shifted in his seat, “What’s going on?”  
  
“I don’t want to alarm you but, Stiles is in the ER right now.” She managed to keep her voice calm, hoping the Sheriff would mirror her tone and feigned emotional state.  
  
He was out of the office in record time, “I’ll be right there!”  
  
  
*  
A year.  
  
A full year since Stiles vanished from the lacrosse field. When asked, a lot of people would say there were a lot of weird things about that night. For starters, Stiles had scored not one but three goals, securing a victory for his team but the team players had all been acting strangely and Jackson full-on died on the field. Died and came back to life the very next day.  
  
No one had an answer when the Sheriff asked where the hell his son was  
  
Most people’s first thought was that the younger Stilinski was just off somewhere either freaked out by all the attention or just pulling a really elaborate prank that no one would find amusing.  
  
It wasn’t until the next day that fear began to rise. He was really nowhere to be found.  
  
Scott, Isaac and Derek had searched every inch of Beacon Hills and came up with nothing. Search parties volunteered to find the Sheriff’s son and the hospital was on alert in case he made it there as a John Doe.  
  
Despite even Deaton’s best efforts to locate him, the boy was simply gone.  
  
He parked the car and sprinted inside. Melissa was waiting for him by the entrance, she held up her hands in a placating gesture before he even stopped.  
  
“Where is he? Is he okay? Where did he come from?”  
  
Melissa decided to walk and talk, hoping to work off some of the stress and anxiety coming off the Sheriff in waves, “He was brought in by campers. Apparently he just wandered into their campsite.”  
  
“Is he okay? Did he say where he’s been this whole time?” Noah wasn’t angry with his son, he was just relieved to have him back safe and alive.  
  
Melissa stopped outside a private room and turned to face the Sheriff, “That’s the thing, Noah.” She shook her head and took a deep breath, “He hasn’t spoken a word. He looks like he’s been through... things and he’s barely let us examine him.”  
  
The sheriff’s heart stopped as this information was processed, “I don’t think I follow. My son is here. He is alive but he’s hurt.”  
  
Melissa nodded and touched his arm, “That’s correct. You can go in and see him while I find the doctor. He wants to speak with you.” Before he could reach for the door handle, Melissa spoke again, “Just... proceed with caution.”  
  
Stilinski’s heart jumped to his throat as he turned the handle and stepped inside the room.  
  
The first thing he noticed was the darkness; the lights were off and the window shades were closed. The second thing he noticed was the empty bed. That one made him scowl, surely Melissa wouldn’t call him for a false alarm or a hoax. He scanned the room and found him under a table.  
  
His son was wedged into the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. The clothes he wore were threadbare, tattered and filthy. His face was buried in the cradle of his arms and his hair – which had grown quite a bit in the time he was gone – was dirty and covered in leaves and mud. His feet were bare and had cuts and bruises, probably from running barefoot in the woods. He looked so thin and frail a good gust of wind would knock him over. The worst was his hands, the nails were chipped, some were fully missing as if someone had pulled them off. The wrists had what were definite signs of prolonged restraining, from a pair of handcuffs or shackles. The skin was raw and chafed, probably from repeated struggles against the restraints.  
  
“Stiles?” He whispered.  
  
The sound made the boy flinch and hug his knees tighter.  
  
“Hey buddy, it’s your dad. I’ve been worried sick about you.” He shook his head and muttered, “What the hell happened to you?”  
  
Without warning, his dark head lifted and met his father’s eyes. His skin was sickly pale, on the verge of translucent. Eyes that were once described as honey gold had lost their lustre and had dark circles around them. Cuts and bruises marred the pallid face. As suddenly as he lifted his head, he retreated back into the cover of his arms. There was no recognition in the youth’s eyes, no flicker that he knew who knelt in front of him.  
  
Anger heated the Sheriff’s chest and had him curling his hands into fists. Stiles hadn’t just vanished that day, someone had taken him and done God knows what to him. He would find out who was responsible and badge or no badge, he would make them pay dearly.  
  
The door opened, making Stiles flinch and whimper. Noah wished he could reach out and comfort him but the soldier part of him told him that it would be counterproductive and cause more harm than good.  
  
Melissa stood by the door with a man in purple scrubs. Noah gave his son one more worry-addled gaze and rose to speak to the doctor.  
  
“Sheriff, good evening, I’m Dr. Knox.” The doctor held out a hand.  
  
Noah accepted the handshake, “Can you tell me what is wrong with my son?”  
  
The doctor glanced at the boy in the corner, “We haven’t been able to examine him but based on—”  
  
“What? Why not?”  
  
Knox paused and let the sheriff’s anger have its space in the sun, “As you may have seen, your son has the worst case of Conditioned Emotional Response, he is extremely sensory defensive. When the campers brought him in, he was still running on adrenaline. The hyper vigilance and sensory defensiveness began soon after he arrived in the ER. To calm him down, we kept him isolated and as quiet and dark as possible.”  
  
The sheriff folded his arms, “He’s been missing for a year. His wrists are bruised as if he was bound. Can you tell what happened to him?”  
  
The doctor grimaced, “Not without a proper exam.” He glanced at the boy again, “We could sedate him but I am wary of doing so against his will.”  
  
Stilinski sighed, “Just… do whatever it is you need to do to get him well. Please.”  
  
The doctor reluctantly nodded and took the file from Melissa’s hands, scribbling something on it, “I’ll get on it. I just need Dr Crawley’s go-ahead.” He nodded again and walked off.  
  
“In the meantime, you should get deputies to talk to the campers who brought Stiles in.” Melissa suggested and started herding him down the hall. He nodded and absently pulled out his phone to do just that.  
  
“Mum!” Scott’s voice cam and Melissa turned to find him, Lydia and Isaac.  
  
“Sweetie, it’s almost ten, what are you doing here?”  
  
Scott glances at Lydia, “Lydia had a… feeling.”  
  
Melissa looked at Lydia, who looked like she had been petrified, “Oh that kind of feeling.”  
  
“We were studying when she got this look on her face,” Isaac said, his eyes still on Lydia, “the next thing we knew, she was up and walking, as if she was sleepwalking.”  
  
“You followed her?” Melissa frowned, she didn’t know much about Lydia’s abilities but she knew they involved people dying.  
  
“Mum, we already lost one friend. I’d rather not lose Lydia because she accidentally walked into traffic.” Scott’s voice wobbled as he spoke. It was bad enough that he was distracted when his best friend went missing, but the fact that despite all these abilities, he couldn’t find a trace of him just made things worse.  
  
“Uh, honey about that…”  
  
“NO!!” Lydia shrieked and darted down the hall as if she was on fire. She stopped outside Stiles’ hospital room and pushed it open. A second. That’s how long she hesitated before rushing inside.  
  
Scott, Isaac and Melissa chased after her. To their shock, they found her on the floor in front of Stiles, holding on to his wrists, which seemed to be bleeding profusely thanks to the three-inch long slashes on his wrists. The amount of blood on the floor around them said it hadn’t been long since it happened.  
  
There were tears on Lydia’s eyes as she turned to address Melissa, “A little help would be nice.”  
  
Melissa reached for a button bear the door and yelled, “Code red! I need 10mg of Diazepam!” then she moved to the cabinet and came back with handfuls of gauze. She knelt next to Lydia, “Okay Lydia, we’re going to have to move quickly or he could bleed out when we trade hands.”  
  
“What do you need me to do?” she asked and looked at Stiles. His head was down and he looked like he was sleeping.  
  
Without words, Melissa grabbed Stiles’ wrists from Lydia’s and squeezed. Another nurse came in with a loaded syringe. That seemed to set Stiles off. He tugged his hands against Melissa’s grip and started to shriek when he failed.  
  
“Reece!” Melissa called and the nurse held Stiles around his shoulders, trying to get him to stop thrashing. The needle came down on his shoulder. He struggled harder, yelled louder before the fight gradually left him and he went slack in the nurses’ hold. “Call Dr Knox, I’ll keep pressure.”  
  
“I’ll help you get him on the bed.” Reece said and pointed at the bed with her head.  
  
Scott moved from his paralysis, “I’ll help.” He stepped into the room and lifted Stiles from the floor and onto the bed. Reece discarded the syringe and needle and hurried out of the room.  
  
“Mum—” Scott called to ask a question but his mum cut him off.  
  
“Sweetie, help Lydia up and get her cleaned up, we’ll talk later.” The look on her eyes discouraged him from pushing for further speaking.  
  
  
Lydia was shaking like a leaf as they walked to the nearest bathroom. A woman in a green coat gave all three of them an odd look as they walked into the ladies’ room. Lydia’s hands were covered in blood and her face was blank. Scott and Isaac led her to the sink and opened the tap and watched the water turn red and swirl into the drain.  
  
“He’s so scared,” Lydia’s voice was hoarse. “So scared.”  
  
“Where has he been?” Isaac asked and guided her hand under the soap dispenser.  
  
Scott shook his head, “I have no idea.”  
  
“He looks like he’s been through something really rough, something he won’t want to tell us about.” Isaac said.  
  
“Do you think his dad knows?” she asked and scrubbed her hands.  
  
Scott lifted a shoulder in a shrug, “My mum will have called him the second she recognised Stiles.”

*  


By the time they got back to Stiles’ room, his dad was back. The sheriff was pacing up and down the hall. Scott took pause as he saw him, they still talked sometimes and Scott checked up on him but there had been a distance created by Stiles’ disappearance.  
  
The sheriff stopped pacing when he saw the trio approaching.  
  
“Scott, what...”  
  
Scott stopped as he reached him and said, “Lydia.” He said by way of explanation.  
  
The sheriff nodded in comprehension, he had been introduced to this crazy supernatural world after Stiles vanished. Scott had realised that the sheriff would lose his mind if he didn’t understand what exactly the teenagers in town were up against. The sheriff knew little and understood even less about Lydia’s abilities but she had helped the sheriff’s department locate nearly a dozen dead bodies in a manner that was well within the realm of inexplicable.  
  
“Is he okay?” Isaac asked.  
  
Noah threw a hand and dropped it with a sigh, “He’s sedated and they’re working on him.”  
  
“Do you know where he’s been?” Scott asked.  
  
Noah shook his head, “I was hoping you guys would have a clue.” They all shook their heads, “He hasn’t said a word of what happened or where he’s been. There are... signs of captivity but... the doctor is with him now.”  
  
As if she knew what he was going to suggest, Lydia spoke, “I’d like to stay.”  
  
“No, you kids go home. You have school tomorrow and there’s not much we can do for him but wait.”  
  
“I’d like to stay.” Lydia repeated and to prove her point, walked to a chair and gingerly sat down.  
  
Stilinski turned his gaze to Scott the werewolf only have a tight smile, “I’d go with it if I were you. She’s here because she felt it when he was trying to hurt himself.”  
  
Stilinski turned to face Lydia, “So if she wants to stay...”  
  
“It could be because she feels Stiles might try to hurt himself again.” Isaac finished for him.  
  
“And she’s very seldom wrong.” Scott muttered.  
  
*  
An hour passed, no news came. Stilinski tired of pacing and sat down next to Lydia. His deputies had taken the statements from the campers who had found his son and were going to go searching for a trail the next day.  
  
He sighed and rubbed his temples. A slow headache was gnawing at him, as were the torturous assumptions his mind was making about what had happened to his son.  
  
“Every time,” Lydia spoke all of a sudden, her voice low and shaky, the sheriff turned to her, “Every time I got this... feeling. The dreadful feeling of death... every time I found a dead body... I prayed it wasn’t him.” Her hands shook and she grasped them. “And now he’s back and he looks...” she shook her head and blinked tears away... “it’s like he’s not really there.”  
  
“Your abilities, can they shed some light on what happened to him?”  
  
She gave it a thought, “It’s possible. Scott might be able to get more.”  
  
Lydia didn’t add that every night since the night Stiles vanished, she had been plagued by nightmares. They were not often vivid and she could never derive much from them


	2. Chapter 2

When he finally woke up, his vision was fuzzy and his throat was dry. The worst was his head which throbbed and hammered painfully.

No.

He was strong enough to escape the witch who had sunk her claws into his mind and he was strong enough to...

No. He wasn’t strong enough.

He tried to get his bearings but it hurt too much to move his eyes around. He did manage to get a glimpse of a man who resembled his father. He sat in the cushioned chair with his eyes closed. He was in his uniform and looked like he’d been through a meat grinder, like he’d aged ten years. He tried to lift a hand and reach out to his father but his whole arm ached from the effort. He’d gotten out of that place, yes, but he was nowhere near safe and neither was anyone close to him. He closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to force calm into his mind. No one could know what had happened to him and the best way to ensure that was to show a measure of sanity and a complete lack of damage. His captor would come after him. Not directly, of course; that wasn’t his style. The most important thing was his father’s safety, his friends’ safety. He didn’t matter. The cloudy feeling came for him again and he had no fight in him to stop it. His heavy eyes closed once, twice then closed a third time for good. His sleep was dense, heavy and most importantly quiet. He was awake the one second and not-awake the next. 

What woke him up the second time was his father’s hand on his head. The warm gesture matched the raw panic on equal footing and kept him from leaping off the bed to a safer place.

His eyes struggled to open but he soon managed to find his father’s face. Worry made up the entirety of his features but there was a glimmer of joy and relief in the elder Stilinski’s eyes.

A small smile formed when he saw Stiles’ eyes open and meet his. “Hey kiddo.”

There were many ways that Stiles could have responded to his father’s gentle greeting.

However on the scale ranging from Stiles bursting into tears and clinging to his dad like a baby to Stiles scowling and asking why his father hadn’t tried harder to find him; Stiles simply gave a tired smile and answered, “Hey Dad.” He reached up for the hand on his head and held it.

Tears sprang to the sheriff’s eyes, “Oh my God, I was so worried.”

Stiles was stunned as his dad pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. “I’m okay, Dad. I’m fine.”

His dad didn’t buy it, he leaned back and scanned his son’s face. Despite the boy’s insistence, his hollow cheeks, haunted eyes and bruised pale skin told his father a different story. “Who did this to you? What happened? Where...”

Stiles leaned into his father’s shoulder, “I’m okay, Dad.” His voice cracked but he denied the tears that wanted to be made known.

His father ran a comforting hand through his hair, “Stiles. You know I need to know who did this to you.”

Without moving away from his father’s embrace, Stiles shook his head, “No, Dad. Don’t worry about it.”

“No. Stiles, I need you to tell me...” Stiles cut him off with another shake of a head. Noah sighed and hugged him again. Forcing Stiles to tell what had happened to him or where he had been could make him retreat back into himself. So for now, he would take the return of his son with joy and gratitude. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad you’re safe.”

Yes, he was back but he wasn’t safe.

No one was safe.

Later in the day, his dad came back with a deputy. Despite Stiles shooing his dad out of the hospital so that he sheriff could get some rest it was obvious that his father hadn’t listened.

Stiles pushed away his untouched lunch and sat cross-legged.

“Sheriff. Deputy.” He nodded at his dad and Deputy Cordover. His tone was a far cry from his old smart-ass playful lilt. And the smile? he didn't even bother to fake one.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” Cordover gave him a smile. "We were all worried about you."

Stiles’ usual response of ‘Kid? You’re like four years older than me.’ was replaced with a polite nod.

“Nurses tell me you’re still not eating.” His dad pointed at the plastic plate and untouched cutlery.

Stiles scratched the back of his head and shrugged, “I’m not hungry.” Before his dad could speak further, Stiles cut him off, “I’m guessing it’s official Sheriff business that brings you here.”

“We need a statement about your disappearance. Are you up for it?” Cordover asked.

Stiles was quiet for a few minutes then nodded without a word. He had already been past the shock of the fact that he had been missing for almost a year. He wasn’t sure whether it felt long or short. The wary look on his father and his Deputy's eyes told him they regretted not being able to find him but there would have been no way for the Sheriff's Station or anyone to find him. Not where he had been held and not with how heavily he had been guarded.

“You were last seen on the lacrosse field on the ninth of April last year. Can you tell me what happened?”

Stiles moved his gaze between the two older men and dropped his shoulders, “Um, lights went off, something sharp on the back of my neck, I passed out and woke up in a vehicle with my hands and feet tied.” His voice cracked and his fingers reached for the bandaged wrist but stopped before they could reach it. He didn't remember how he'd injured his wrists but the pain told him it had been recent, yesterday at least.

“What kind of vehicle was it?” His dad asked.

Stiles shrugged and one corner of his mouth turned down for a second, “I don’t know, a van maybe? I could feel a... cold, hard metal surface on my side.”

“Do you know who was driving the vehicle?”

Stiles shook his head enough to move his hair into his forehead, he swiped it away with a shaky hand, “There was something over my head, I couldn’t... couldn’t see.” His hands came together and he watched his fingers fidget with each other. He unconsciously counted them before taking a calming breath.

“Do you know where you were being held?” His dad asked before moving forward to free one of his hands before it clawed the other one off.

“Uh, no. I must have passed out again. When I woke up, I was... it was dark, cold and dark.”

“All the time?” Cordover asked.

Stiles nodded, “All the time.”

“Can you tell us anything about the person who took you? Appearance, voice?” Stiles shook his head. “What did they do to you?”

Stiles shook his head again.

“Stiles, if you’re afraid that they might come after you, you don’t have to worry. We’ll protect you.”

Protect me? Stiles wanted to laugh, no one could protect him. He shut his eyes and murmured something under his breath. “I don’t remember.” He whispered in a hollow voice.

“How did you escape?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how I got these.” He lifted his bandaged wrists.

“Stiles, you must know something. You—”

The boy shook his head again and gave his father a desperate look, “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” A breath that sounded like a dying puppy shivered out of him, “Can we maybe do this another time, please? I’m getting a headache.” That was not a lie. Pressure was building inside his skull and there was a constant ringing in his ears that got worse each time he closed his eyes.

His dad ruffled his head fondly, “Okay. If you remember anything, have the nurses contact me. Get some sleep.”

He unfolded his legs and leaned back into the pillow and watched his father and the deputy leave. His father wasn’t the emotional helicopter parent who bubble-wrapped him. The best way he knew how to show affection was to make the person and/or people responsible for Stiles’ disappearance pay for their error in judgment.

He stared at the sterile white ceiling for a long quiet while then closed his eyes and took deep breath, “Keep it together, Stiles. Keep it together.” He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They shook violently and his breathing quickened.

Right before he forced his eyes closed, purple sparkles of electricity flew between his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

*FOUR MONTHS EARLIER*

This was the third time.

Stilinski parked his car right at the edge of the river and got out. he double-checked his flashlight then walked to where the girl stood frozen.

The body was a few yards away from her. Just like the previous ones, it - he - was sprawled on the ground as if he had dropped dead while running. His eyes and mouth were open, there was a terrified look on his face. Like the other two, a perfect circle of mountain ash surrounded the corpse.

“Lydia?” the sheriff touched her shoulder.

Her breaths came in shivering bursts and she shook her head, “It happened like the last two times. I don’t understand, who’s doing this?”

“No one right in their minds. Dispatch, I’m going to need the coroner and units at mile-marker sixty-four by the river.” once he received confirmation, he turned back to Lydia. 

“Why don’t you wait in the car and I’ll have a deputy drive you home?”

“I can’t keep doing this... the dead bodies, the nightmares,” she shook her head again, tears filling her eyes.

He took her by the elbow and led her away from the body, “I know. This is too much on anyone, let alone someone so young.”

She drew in a shaky breath and hugged her middle, “It’s not the dead bodies... it’s... when I feel these deaths, when I find these bodies... it’s the way they... it’s almost as if they’ve been hollowed out... as if they’re empty and... who’s doing this?” a scream bubbled up her chest but she managed to bank it down.

Instead she burst into tears, shaking as she sobbed.

The Sheriff gingerly pulled her in for a hug, “We’ll figure that out. We’ll stop whoever is doing this and the nightmares will end.”  
Lydia didn’t tell him that the nightmares would never end for her. Not when she dreamed of a terrified boy in a cold, dark and painful place she can never reach. She didn’t tell him that she saw his missing son in her nightmares.

*

“Can I say what we’re all thinking?” Isaac piped up, interrupting Scott mid-pace, “If Stiles were here, he’d probably know who the hell is killing people.”

Scott gave him a kind but pained look, “We are all thinking that, but if wherever he is, he would want us to stop this maniac.”

Deaton walked back into the room carrying a candle and a lighter, “Well, this is what we call a very long shot but I guess it is the time for long shots.”

“What’s that going to do? Are we having a seance?” Isaac asked.

In honour of their missing friend, Scott and Lydia rolled their eyes.

Deaton smiled and placed the candle in front of Lydia, “Lydia can feel when someone dies, her powers aren’t connected to the deaths but to the souls leaving the body. The reason you feel something is wrong with these deaths might be because you feel something is wrong with the victims’ souls.”

Lydia pointed at the candle, “Aaand the candle will...”

“The wax is laced with Salvia which enables the mind to open up to more dimensions than we are normally capable of. Lydia may have traces of the anomalies that make these deaths different from others.”

“How do we do this?” she asked, squaring her shoulders and psyching herself out.

Deaton lit the candle and turned off the desk lamp, “Clear your mind, Lydia. The calmer you are, the more you’ll be able to retrieve.” he turned to Scott and Isaac, “Too many noises will confuse and distract her. We need quiet. All the way quiet.” To Lydia, he said: “This will involve you re-feeling the dread, the sorrow of each death you’ve come across, don’t linger any longer than you need to. Find what you need and return. I’m going to place a beacon in your mind that will let me know when you are ready to come out.”

Lydia nodded and turned her eyes to the light.

The three of them watched as the light left Lydia’s eyes, her shoulders dropped and her face relaxed. No one made a sound and Isaac found himself wishing he had asked how long the whole thing would take but before he could lose to the urge to ask the question, Lydia let out a head-splitting shriek that blew out the candle and shattered the desk lamp’s bulb.

“Lydia?” Deaton touched her shoulder, halting her shriek. “You’re okay.”

She combed shaky fingers through her hair and puffed out panicked breaths “I’m okay. I’m okay.” she nodded and sniffled. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What did you see, Lydia?” Scott’s voice was calm.

"Water, please." she croaked.

Isaac hurried out of the room and came back with a paper cup filled with water. Lydia drained the whole cup and gulped in more strained breaths.

"Lydia?" Scott touched her shoulder.

Her breath hitched, “The killer...” she turned to meet Deaton’s gaze, “He takes their shadows.”

Isaac scowled, “Is that a metaphor?”

“What do you mean, their shadows?” Scott asked.

“No,” Lydia breathed, haunted, “Their shadows. Ripped out of their bodies.”

Scott looked at his boss, “Dr Deaton, is that even possible?”

Deaton got this pensive look and gave it to thin air, “In many cultures, the shadow is not just your body obstructing light but an integral piece of your soul. So their souls are being ripped out.” he shook his head, “But that shouldn’t kill them.”

Scott frowned, “It shouldn’t?”

“No. Your soul, at least the part that resides in your shadow, isn’t the spark of life—”

“—it’s its counterbalance.” Lydia cut in.

Deaton nodded, “Light needs darkness and darkness needs light. Remove the darkness and the light cannot survive.” after a pause, “What I don’t understand is how they’re doing this. It takes tremendous amounts of power to subdue a victim, much less rip out their souls.”

“Any ideas?”

Deaton slowly shook his head, “A long time ago, maybe but... there hasn’t been a witch powerful enough to do that since...” he cut himself off with a head shake.

Silence passed for a full minute before Lydia broke it by rising from the table, “Well, judging by the look on the good doctor’s face, I don’t think we’re going to get any more answers. I’m gonna go home and get some nightmare-laden sleep full of soulless corpses. Who’s driving me home?”

*

When the next body dropped, Lydia was found by Derek and Peter. A perfect ring of mountain ash surrounded him and a vacant, horrified look on his face. Unlike the other bodies, this one had cuts everywhere in various degrees of healing. The dead werewolf had been trying to heal himself when death caught up with.

“Ennis.” Peter said and shook his head, “Whatever did this to him, it’s nothing I’ve come across.”

“Looks like he put up one hell of a fight.” Derek said and crouched next to his corpse, careful of the mountain ash. “Do you think his attacker was injured?”

Peter looked at Ennis’ knuckles. They were pristine but the tips of his fingers were bloody as if he had sunk his claws into them. “Unless this shadow business can be done at a distance, I’d say his attacker is not having a good day.”

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Derek asked his uncle.

Peter looked offended, “Because this is the kind of thing I would know about.”

Derek stared at him for a few seconds before he shrugged, “Well... yeah.”

He shook his head, “If I were a guessing man, I’d say this is some kind of witchcraft. Nothing I’ve ever come across but...”

Derek pulled his phone out, “Maybe Deaton will know.”

*PRESENT DAY*

His friends showed up the following day, all wearing weary smiles. Scott and Allison stood awkwardly by the door, as if afraid that a single movement might set him off. Lydia, on the other hand crossed the dark room and threw her arms around Stiles with a big smile. “It’s so good to see you!” She murmured to him.

Stiles hugged her back with a tired smile, “It’s good to see you too.” He moved his eyes to Scott and Allison and offered the same smile.

“Yeah.” Scott walked forward and hugged his best friend when Lydia stepped back. The werewolf gave Stiles an uneasy look and Stiles nodded, “I’m okay.”

“What happened to you? Where have you been and how did you get back here?” Scott asked, his hand still on Stiles' shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter.” Stiles shook his head, “I’m back. I’m okay. I’m Stiles.”

“Your dad says you don’t remember what happened to you.”

“I don’t. I don’t even know... I just... don’t.”

Scott wanted to press for more questions but Allison gripped his hand in a cautioning gesture that maybe Stiles wouldn’t take the questions well.

“We looked everywhere for you,” Lydia spoke softly. "There were search parties for weeks, months."

Stiles’ hand moved over a bandaged wrist and he nodded, “I know you did." Wanting... needing to drop the subject of his year of captivity, he turned to Scott, "How have you guys been? What did I miss? Tell me everything.”

“Well, we lost the championship.” Scott started.

Allison shook her head, “I don’t think that’s what Stiles meant when he said—”

“—oh it is. I am the team spirit and it totally makes sense that you guys fell apart when I was gone.”

Scott nodded, “Totally.”

“My dad is okay with his daughter dating a werewolf,” Allison nudged Scott’s head with hers.

“Progressive.” Stiles nodded with a smile then playfully snapped, “Oh would you hurry up and get to the good stuff!”

The trio gave him an assortment of confused faces, “Good stuff? That was the good stuff.”

“The cafeteria finally admitted that the quote-unquote ‘ketchup’ was none other than pizza sauce.” Lydia said with a cringe.

Stiles frowned and tapped his chin suspiciously, “You mean to tell me that nothing new happened in a town where everything happens all the time?”

Allison looked at Lydia who looked at Scott, they seemed to have a brief telepathic conversation.

Stiles sighed and dropped his shoulders, “If anything, it’ll distract me from... well from...”

Lydia sat down, “Well, it is the weirdest case of dead bodies that don’t have shadows.”

He turned to Lydia, “What do you mean the bodies don’t have shadows?”

“I saw them, I found them. They had no shadows.” Lydia whispered.

Based on the weird things Lydia had found and the even weirder things he had been through, he knew it wasn’t the garden-variety shadows that were missing.

Stiles brought a hand to his temple and tiredly nodded. A flicker of a memory, a ghost of a thought passed through him. He closed his eyes and tried to keep the slow-building panic at bay. He may have looked and acted as if nothing haunted him but that was on the surface. No one could know just how damaged he was.

A noise came from the hallway; someone had dropped a metal tray. Stiles flinched and his hands began to shake again. He gripped them together and ignored the purple flickers of electricity between them.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Scott asked, his voice sounded doubled-out.

“Yeah...” he croaked and brought a hand to his head.

Allison cut him off before he could say anything else, “This must all be overwhelming for you. You should get some rest.”

He put a smile on, “No, I’m okay. So what actually killed them?”

“We’re not sure, there were no gunshot or knife wounds,” Scott replied and gauged the weary look on his best friend's face. “But Allison’s right you need to get some rest. We’ll see you later, okay?”

He nodded numbly and let Scott squeeze his shoulder, Allison smile and Lydia fold him into a hug.

Once they were gone, he let out a shaky breath and watched the crackles of electricity dance between his hands.

“Keep it together, Stiles. Keep it together.”


	4. Chapter 4

Heat curled off his hands as the purple electricity jumped between his fingers. He forced himself to keep his eyes closed and slow his breathing.

“No. Don’t do this.” He pleaded under his breath. Tears sprang to his eyes and he shakily swiped then away. The key to this was to not try so hard. He could relax. He would calm down. He just had to slow his breathing.

He just had to slow... slow... _s-l-o-w_ his breathing.

He remembered nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Slow breaths.

In.  
And.  
Out.  
In.  
And.  
Out.

Slowly.

The electricity dissipated with the next exhale and he fell back into his pillow. He stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the cooling sweat and trembling fingers.

The door opened just as he was sure the panic attack was over.  
 _Keep it together, Stiles,_ he told himself but gripped his wrist to be sure.

The nurse who walked in wasn’t one he’d seen before. She wore dark green scrubs and carried a metal tray in one hand. Her hair curled down to her shoulders and a smile barely reached her cheeks.

“Hello, Stiles. How are we feeling?” She voice was low and kind of sweet.

He blinked and turned to face her, “Fi-fine.” His voice was still winded but at least his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“That’s good,” she walked around his bed to the IV and lifted a syringe off the tray. Unease clawed at the back of his neck but he shrugged it off.

“What’s that for?” Stiles asked as he watched her fit the syringe into the short line site on his arm.

She gave him a faux-saccharine smile and pushed she plunger, injecting the clear solution into his bloodstream, “Oh nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Just a sedative to help you sleep.”

What? Make him sleep? He didn’t want to sleep, terrible things lived in his dreams. Sleep was the enemy. “Wait! I don’t—”

She removed the syringe and cupped his cheek with claw-tipped fingers, “Shhh, it’s alright. Isn’t it? You’re so tired. You can sleep. You are safe here.” she crooned.

Her face blurred and her voice doubled out as she spoke. He tried to move away but his limbs turned to jelly and he went completely slack within seconds.

The nurse placed the tray on the trolley and walked to the hallway. She signaled for her companions. They were also dressed in scrubs but had lab coats over them. One of them pushed a wheelchair into the room. The woman’s voice changed from smooth and gentle to hard and commanding, “Hurry this up and don’t draw any attention.”

The boys, albeit identical, gave different expressions in response.

The boy with the wheelchair nodded and pushed the chair to the bed and lifted the unconscious Stiles onto it.

The other boy rolled his eyes, “Oh really? Is speed and stealth that important when kidnapping a minor front a hospital? I had no idea?”

“Quiet, Ethan. You don’t want to have to explain to _him_ why we failed.” His brother ordered.

The nurse checked the coast before flicking her head in a ‘let’s get out of here’ gesture.

They passed an orderly mopping the floor and wheeled him all the way to the lift without a snag.

The nurse pressed the service floor button and smiled at a passing old lady who carried flowers.

“So why exactly are we doing this?” Ethan asked. His companions gave him scathing glares. He probably wasn't going to get answers but maybe is he asked his brother again later he would find out why this pale skinny kid was important enough to draw attention to their presence in this town.

The lift descended slowly past the ground floor to the service floor.

The lift dinged as it stopped, signalling the opening of the doors.

They stopped as they were met with a sight of angry red eyes.

The nurse smiled calmly, “Derek.”

“Kali.” Derek replied with the same tone.

Aiden pushed the wheelchair at Derek while Ethan vaulted to tackle him to the ground. Stiles’ unconscious body tipped forward but Scott’s hands caught him before he could fall out of the wheelchair. Aiden growled and shoved Scott swiping at him with claws. Scott ducked and managed to claw at Aiden’s shoulder.

Derek kicked Ethan into the wall and turned just as Kali came at him with a growl. Her claws came down but Derek caught her hand and knocked an elbow into her nose. It gave a satisfying crack and made her cringe.

Scott got claws into his side when Aiden recovered. He ignored the pain and placed a fuelled punch at Aiden’s side. Ethan caught Derek in a chokehold but before Kali could deliver a blow, an arrow flew into her shoulder, making her shriek. Derek twisted in Ethan’s grasp and head-butted him. Another arrow landed on his leg, causing him to sink to the ground.

Derek used that to his advantage and pulled Aiden off Scott, “Take Stiles and go! Now!”

Ethan pulled away and instead of attacking Derek, he ran for his brother. Derek caught up with Scott and they all hurried to the waiting car.

Allison held the door open for them and Derek scowled, “What’s she doing here?”

“I called her.” Scott answered as Derek lifted Stiles into the passenger seat.

“We don’t—”

“—oh shut up and take the help. I don’t care much what you think of me.” She slung her bow and walked to her car.

Derek slid behind the wheel and Scott sat next to the sleeping beauty. “Where are we taking him?”

“My loft. Call his dad.” He ordered and drove off.

Scott nodded. “Why would they want to take Stiles? How did they even know he was here?”

“I think they’re not just watching us anymore. They’re following us. Stiles’ return has been all people in town have been talking about.”

Scott looked at his best friend’s bandaged wrists, “Do you think they’re the ones who had him? It would explain the memory loss.”

Derek shook his head, “Doubtful. They wouldn’t have let him get this far. They’ve been careful not to draw attention to themselves. Besides, he’s not carrying any trace of werewolf scent.”

“I’ve never been more glad about Lydia’s... whatever it is that makes her see all these things.”

Sheriff Stilinski was already waiting for the outside Derek’s building, “What are the chances he’s glad we took his son out of the hospital?”

Scott shook his head, “I’m sure all he cares about is the safety of his son.” He gently moved Stiles’ head off his shoulder and stepped out of the car. The sheriff walked forward to meet them.

“What the hell do you...?”

Scott raised both hands in a calming gesture, “Someone drugged him and tried to take him from the hospital. Three Alphas.”

Anger left the sheriff’s body and he looked at his son, “Why?”

Both Derek and Scott shook their heads, “Don’t know,” Scott replied and held the door open for

Derek to lift Stiles out of the car, “But he’s not safe at the hospital.”

Noah couldn’t argue with that.

“Let’s get him inside and seal this place before they decide it’s worth a risk to try and take him from us.” Derek said and carried him inside.

“We’ll ask Dr Deaton to get mountain ash and keep them out.” Scott suggested and walked inside after him.

Derek gently placed Stiles on his king-sized bed and covered him with a blanket. Heated anger rose up his spine when he saw the bruises on his face, neck and arms. They suggested that there were more bruises elsewhere but he refrained from checking. One crisis at a time.

“What are we going to do, Derek?” Scott asked. “We can’t fight off a pack of Alphas.”

“We have to find out what they want from him.” Derek got up and walked out of the room.

“What would they want from him? He’s been missing for a year.” Scott and the sheriff followed him to the living room.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s back here and hey try to take him the very next day. If they weren’t the ones who took him then at the very least they know why he was taken.”

“Neither do I.” Scott said.

“There might be a way to find his lost memories but it might be risky.” Derek said.

“How?” Scott shrugged.

Derek paused, “It’s risky and might not work. We’ll have to wait until he wakes up it can’t be done unless he agrees to it.”

Noah turned and faced the werewolves, “Is he safe here?”

Derek considered that and nodded, “For the time-being. If the Alphas are after him, nowhere is truly safe.”

Noah lifted a hand, “Stiles has been missing for a year and none of us managed to find him. This can’t happen again. He deserves to be safe.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, did you manage to find the place the campers found him? I was thinking we could try and retrace his steps and figure out where he came from.”

The sheriff met Derek’s eyes and nodded, “Alright.”

“I’ll call Isaac to help you here and find Argent to help track Stiles’ movements.”

“Thanks.” Stilinski said.


	5. Chapter 5

Isaac showed up with Allison and Lydia twenty minutes later.

“This makes no sense,” Allison said. “My dad told me that the Alpha pack is after Alphas and their pack members - werewolves, adding to their strength. What do they want with Stiles. He’s a human.”

“They would have turned him if they were after recruitment numbers.”

“So why take him and torture him?” Lydia asked and smoothed the fabric of her skirt. She stiffened for a second as electricity moved through her.

“Lydia, you okay?” Scott asked with furrowed brows.

Lydia tipped her head to the side and considered answer, “I don’t know.” Electricity passed through her again, this time made her hair flutter around her shoulders. She looked at her friends and stood, “I think Stiles is awake. I’ll go check on him.”

She walked in the direction of Derek’s bedroom and opened the door, “Uh guys?” She called with an alarmed voice.

The three in the living room got up and hurried after Lydia.

Stiles was still on the bed, still passed out. He looked completely fine other than the purple crackles of electricity rolling over his entire body. A single bolt started from his toes and moved up all the way to his head. A new one would start before the old one ended.

None of them knew how to respond to what they were seeing but they all seemed convinced that staying away was the best course of action.

This went on for a full minute before stopping abruptly as Stiles jolted awake with a gut-wrenching scream. His eyes glowed purple and he screamed as if he was on fire.

Scott went to him and tried to calm him down, “Stiles! Stiles, you’re okay! It’s me, it’s Scott.”  
The screaming was replaced with hyperventilation and bone-jarring tremors. “Hey, it’s okay. See? It’s just me. And Lydia, and Allison, and Isaac. See?” He spoke with a tone he often used on terrified animals at the clinic.

Stiles closed his eyes and carried on hyperventilating.

“There. You’re okay.” He reached out and touched his shoulder.

That seemed to set Stiles off, he opened his eyes, they still glowed and smouldered. His lifted a hand and swiped it across, sending Scott flying through the room and into the wall. Stiles got up and skittered to the corner where he sat curled in on himself with his hands on his head.

“What the what?!!” Allison yelled. Isaac stopped her as she stepped forward, “Maybe I should try. I’m a bit more... durable.” Lydia and Allison didn’t argue.

Isaac walked to Scott and helped him up, “You okay?” Scott nodded and they both turned to face Stiles.

“Wait.” Lydia called calmly, “I don’t think approaching him like that is the best course of action. We don't know the extent of... whatever that was and we don't want to make him hurt us unintentionally.”

“Lydia’s right. He needs to know that he’s safe here and that two werewolves aren’t ganging up on him,” Allison said.

Scott sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the memory of the forced that threw him into the wall,“If he could just calm down, he’ll see that we don’t mean him harm.” Scott said and looked at him. “You guys go. I’ll stay here until he calms down.”

They all nodded and left he room, Allison murmured, “Be careful,” to Scott before walking out.

“At least now we know why they’re after him.” Isaac drawled.

Back in the bedroom, Scott walked forward and stopped when Stiles lifted his head with wild glowing violet eyes that darted here, there and everywhere. That’s where Scott would make his stand. He slowly sat down with folded legs and watched Stiles. His best friend was clearly not open to contact at the moment so Scott would sit here and let him know that he was safe.

“It’s okay, Stiles. No one’s going to hurt you.” he said softly, his hands out in a placating gesture.

Stiles lifted his head again and Scott watched as the purple faded from his eyes, “You can’t let me fall asleep again.” He begged with a shaky voice. “Please.”

Scott nodded, “Okay. We can do that.”

“Did I hurt you?” Stiles asked and moved his hands from his neck.

Scott shook his head, “No. I’m okay. Are you?”

Stiles interpreted his best friends’ answer to the question he clearly wanted to ask which was ‘what the freaking hell?!'. He looked at his hands, “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” His hands shook and flickers of electricity jumped off them. He curled his hands into fists and forced himself to breathe slowly. “Keep it together, Stiles.”

“Did they... did the people who took you... did they do this to you?” Scott asked, anger churning in his stomach.

Stiles shook his head, “No. Yes... not really? I don’t... not really.”

They sat in awkward silence before Scott asked, “Do you... can I get you some water? Maybe something to eat?”

“No, I’m okay.” He scratched the side of his head and sat up. “How did I get here? Where are we? Where’s my dad? Can I go home?”

“We're at Derek’s loft. There’s this pack of Alphas in town and some of them drugged you and tried to kidnap you from the hospital.”

“Why?” Stiles leaned back on the wall. Before Scott could answer, Stiles fidgeted again, “Actually, you know. Can I get up? I don’t think I’ve moved around for a while.”

“Sure,” Scott got up and helped him up.

He was unsteady on his feet but remained upright. “Can you walk?”

He nodded and took a step forward, relief flooded him when his legs didn't immediately quit on him, “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Are you up for seeing people?” Stiles met his eyes, paused then nodded. “You can change into these.” Scott picked up the clothes that Lydia and Allison brought from Stiles’ room.

Ten minutes later he was out of the hospital pyjamas and in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. He and Scott found Allison, Isaac and Lydia sitting stoically in the living room.

“Hey guys.” He raised a hand in a small wave.

They stood in unison but Lydia spoke first, “Hey.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not gonna...” he lifted his hands then dropped them, “again. I swear.” not that he had complete control of when it happened but he prayed it wouldn't.

That didn’t make them relax but they did sink back to their seats. Stiles picked the very end of the couch and a few seconds later slid off to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. Uneasy glances were passed around the room.

“So what’s with the electricity and the super strength?” Isaac broke the silence. Only he could make an awkward silence charming.

Stiles looked at his hands and sighed, “I don’t know. And it’s not super strength.”

“It’s not?” Isaac sounded disappointed by that. To answer his question, Stiles lifted his eyes to a book on the table and a few seconds later, it began to lazily rise. It made it thirty inches into the air, flipped open, closed and gently landed back on the table.

“Whoa. That’s even cooler!” Isaac’s eyes rounded in surprise.

“What is it? Magic? Did... they do that to you?” Allison asked.

Stiles shook his head, “I don’t know... I can’t... I don’t know.” He felt electricity crackle through him as panic reared its head. “But it gets worse... dangerous when I’m not calm.”

“So it’s like a defense mechanism?” Lydia leaned forward with her in-thought expression.

“Kind of?” Stiles shrugged and fiddled with the bandage on his wrist. “I can’t control it very well and most of the time, I can’t remember what I do. Or did.”

“So what happened to you there?”

“Isaac!” Allison hissed, “What he said about not being calm?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Isaac mumbled.

“Where’s my dad? Can I go home?” he asked again.

How to answer that? It was obvious Stiles didn’t want anything to do with his disappearance. Would telling him that Derek and his dad had gone looking for where he had gone set him off?

Probably.

“At the station.” Allison cut in first.

“How did I get here?”

Lydia stood from her seat, “You should eat. Would you like something to eat? We could make pasta or order something.”

Stiles shook his head, “Uh, no thanks. I’m not hungry.”

It had been a full day and he hadn’t eaten anything, “Stiles, you should eat something. How about... soup?” Lydia suggested.

The thought made his stomach quiver, Stiles shook his head. “I’m okay. Can I go home?” His voice grew desperate.

The sound of a door opening made Stiles jump and an electric spark passed through him.

Scott’s voice lowered, “Don’t worry, it’s probably your dad and Derek.”

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and shivered it out. “I’m okay.” He hugged himself.

A full minute later, the lift doors rolled open and Derek came out followed by the sheriff.

Relief passed through each teen in the room.

“Oh hey, what did you—?” Isaac started to ask but Scott cut him off with a hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles is awake.” He said more cheerfully than necessary and pointed at him.

Understanding crossed Isaac’s features and he nodded.

Derek smiled at Stiles, “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?” Stilinski said.

Instead of answering, Stiles got up, crossed the room and threw his arms around his dad. His dad was shocked for a second but recovered enough to hug him back. “I’m okay. Can we go home?” He asked without letting go of his father, his voice wobbled as he spoke.

Stilinski nodded, “Of course.” He let his son go but kept a hand on his arm as if he was afraid he would vanish before his eyes. “We're gonna go, we’ll speak later.”

“Wait. Is that a good idea?” Allison asked, “The Alphas are still looking for him and well...”

Stiles squirmed and shifted uncomfortably, “Please? I just want to go home.”

“Maybe Allison is right.” Lydia said, “We still need to—”

“—please?” His breathing grew fast and shallow and terror took up residence on his face.

Stilinski squeezed his son’s arm gently, “Stiles, calm down. No one wants to keep you where you don’t—” Stiles closed his eyes and tugged his arm away and took a deliberate step back. Stilinski complied and tried not to look hurt by the action. “We can go home if you want.” His dad told him gently.

Derek’s voice was patient but exasperated, “Stiles, the Alphas are still out there and you’ll be much safer if you—”

The building shuddered and Stiles’ eyes turned violet, objects on tables vibrated and rose off their surfaces and sparks of electricity danced off his fingers.

Silence followed Stiles’ reaction and they all looked at him. His father took a step back. “I said, I want to go home.” Not demanding but begging. “Please.” Silence fell again and he once again begged, “Please.”

The Sheriff took careful steps toward his son, his jaw dropped in surprise, “Is this why they took you? To unseal your powers?”

Stiles took another step back and sighed, “Maybe I shouldn’t go home.” He looked at his shaking hands, still electrified.

His father shrugged and gave him a calm smile, “Oh we can go home, kiddo.” He turned to face the rest of the group, “I’ll take him home.”

“Sheriff, is that a good idea?” Scott asked.

“It’ll only get worse if we keep him here against his will and trust me, it will get worse.” Stiliskin said with a calm voice.

Lydia’s brows knitted in a frown, “Is it me or is the sheriff completely not surprised that his son can make buildings shake and command electricity?”

Stilinski sighed, “It’s something he inherited from his mother.” Everyone waited for an explanation, “She was a witch.”

“Ah!” Derek and Allison chorused as if that explained everything.

“Witches are real?” Isaac asked, still confused.

“Of course. Why not? Banshees are real, why not witches?” Lydia said.

“Let me just take him home and I’ll try to explain everything but—”

“—no, it’s okay. You can explain now, dad.” Stiles said. His dad gave him a questioning look and

Stiles nodded. “I’m okay. Just... I don’t think I do well with being touched so...” he walked back to his spot and sat down with his knees up.

Everyone sat down and turned to the sheriff.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Stiles’ mother belonged to a family of witches that emigrated from Poland. She told me most of them were killed by hunters and she and Stiles were the last.”

Allison kept her eyes down and prayed that no one was judging _her_ for her family business.

“How did she know Stiles would have these powers? He is half-human, after all.” Derek asked.

“She was a Seeker. Although adept at the rest of her abilities, finding other supernatural creatures was her primary ability.” He looked at Derek, “It’s how she knew about your family being werewolves.”

“So she knew about my powers when I was a baby?” Stiles looked at his hands.

“She said it would be your choice whether you wanted this power or not. We were going to talk about it when you turned seventeen. She placed a seal in your mind to keep your magic dormant.”

Stiles nodded, “How was I going to open it without her?”

Stilinski was quiet for a few moments, “The seal had a time-limit, that’s why you had to know before it broke. You were going to need... it doesn't matter now." he shook his head, "You turned seventeen and your powers are unsealed.”

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about before the game?" Stiles mumbled and his dad nodded.

“So how did the people who took you know about this? And how did they break the seal?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about this, we’ll have to talk to Deaton about most of it.”

“Deaton?” Scott tipped his head to one side, “Why am I not surprised?”

The room was quiet as everyone digested the information. Stiles was the first to shift and get up, “Can I still go home?”

“Of course.” His dad said.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Stiles said and looked at his hands.

“I know. I might be able to help with that.” His dad stood up.


	6. Chapter 6

When he got home with his father, though the house hadn’t changed, it felt different to him.

Had it really only been one year?

He looked at the house through the windshield of the car, “Hey.” His dad called and he jumped,

“One step at a time, okay. If you don’t want to go inside, we can wait out here until you do.”

Stiles stared at the house a bit longer and opened the door. He caught a glimpse of his Jeep as he walked up the driveway and a twinge of nostalgia came. Did he stillnknow how to drive?

Would he be able to go back to the way things were? Shaking his head, he walked on and closed the door.

A military man as always, the living room and kitchen were pristine, everything was in its place.

He took comfort in the knowledge that his father hadn’t fallen apart in his absence. There was a board in the dining room and similar to Stiles’ own, it had a network of strings between clues and scribbled sticky notes. His dad had been looking for him this whole time? Did he even sleep? It was one of his greatest fears when he was in captivity, that his father would never know what became of him. He had prayed that his captors would leave a clue saying he was dead rather than make his father think he had vanished off the surface of the earth.

He walked up the stairs, fourteen of them, and stopped outside his room. The door was closed and he hesitated on the handle. His dad patiently waited until he assembled the courage to turn the handle and push the door open.

The crime board was the first to greet him. It still had a network of red yarn and most of his research into the kanima. His desk still had his homework neatly organized in stacks that he had rearranged a million times when he worked.

His bed was made but the bedding was different.

“You okay?” His dad asked.

Stiles paused and took in the room for a while before raising his hand and swiping it across the air. The crime board cleared, so did most of the research materials on his desk.

“You’re pretty good at that.” His dad noted.

Stiles shook his head and kept his head down, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not always in control of it.”

“Wait here.” His dad stepped out and came back with a small black box. Stile was seated at the edge of his bed when his dad came back. “When your mother first got sick, she knew her powers would cause harm to not just herself but to everyone around her. So she got this from Deaton.”

He opened the box and revealed a thin bracelet that was made from braided leather with a tightly coiled string in the middle.

“What is it?” Stiles reached out and lifted the bracelet.

His father's eyes narrowed, “I think she called it Rue.”

“Witchbane.” Stiles nodded and turned the bracelet around between his hands.

“It won’t nullify your powers just...”

“Dampen them.” Stiles muttered.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. You didn't get much choice about having these powers but you can decide whether you want to use them or not.”

Stiles stared at it for the longest of times, absently turning it over and over before slipping onto the wrist with the thinner bandage. It was a snug fit but the second it was on, the jittery feeling passed and left a weight of fatigue. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

His dad nodded and closed the box, “Do you want to get some sleep?”

Stiles Stilinski had no intention of falling asleep from long before then until the end of time. Sleep was the enemy. Bad things resided in the world of sleep and he was not in the mood to meet them.

He looked at his dad and nodded, “Can I take a shower first?”

The sheriff’s features softened, “Of course.”

Half an hour later, after scrubbing what felt like the entire top layer of his skin, Stiles dressed in his pyjama pants and an old Star Wars t-shirt, the clothes hung off him like they belonged to an older kid.

He slid between the sheets and his dad asked him of he wanted the lights on or off, very urgently, he asked for the lights to be left on. After his light sensitivity passed, the dark had begun to suffocate him.

Terrible things lived in the dark and he was in no condition to face them.

Exactly five minutes after his dad left the room, Stiles slid out of bed and walked to his dresser.

It didn’t take much rummaging to find what he was looking for: a canister with the label: _STILINSKI, M. ADDERALL 5mg._ He took two tablets out, tossed them into his mouth and walked back to bed.

As expected, his dad came to check on him every hour on the hour. These were moments when he would close his eyes and even out his breathing to make his old man think he was sleeping.

Ghosts of unconsciousness would creep in at those moments and figments of his memories would pass behind his eyes.

A cold metal table, cold hard cuffs chaffing at his skin, the sharp point of a knife over his arms, legs, chest, stomach. The pliers on his nails, slowly tugging at times but yanking at others.

He lifted up his top and stared at the bruises. That was all that remained of his time with the faceless people with knives. He remembered each slice, slash, cut. He remembered screaming until his vocal cords gave out and he remembered the warm light that came at the end of the day, erasing the open skin, mending the hurts doled out each day.

He sucked in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. Then he deftly undid the bandage on his bracelet-free arm. He hadn’t thought about it much but he had no idea why his wrists were bandaged. Of course his deductive reasoning told him why but he still had to see. Under the bandage was gauze that was stained dark red. He touched the tender parts and winced. He carefully lifted the edge of the gauze and inspected. An angry cut ran from the heel of his hand to the middle of his forearm. The edges of the cut were jagged and parts of it were tacky with newly-clotted blood. He stared at the stitches that held both edges together and his vision turned cloudy. Tears welled and rolled out when he blinked and a soundless sob shuddered out of his chest.

“What’s going on?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his dad’s voice. It had been soft but in the quiet of night, it was the only sound.

Stiles saw the shock and dread in his father’s eyes and shame scratched at him, “I’m sorry... I’m not... I wasn’t... just wanted to see...” he blubbered and picked up the bandage from his side and clumsily tried to roll it back in. “I’m sorry... just... so... I...”

His dad quietly sat next to him and helped him reapply the bandage over the gauze, “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ve got you.” His dad told him gently.

“I’m okay.” Stiles mumbled and swiped at his eyes.

Once done with the bandage, his dad gave him a reassuring shoulder squeeze and Stiles burst into tears. He tried to stem the violent tide but sobs allied themselves with the wicked elusive memories and tears won. His dad drew him to his chest and held him tightly. Stiles kept apologizing through the tears and his father quietly let him cry until the sobs tapered off to sniffling and choked up inhales. He went quiet then blinked once, twice and squirmed out of his dad’s embrace. “I’m okay now.”

His dad didn’t look convinced, “Stiles.”

Stiles’ breathing hitched and a few rebel tears fell out but he nodded, “No I’m okay. I have to be.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles shook his head and sighed. “Do you... do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head again. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

He gave that some thought and nodded. He wasn’t going to sleep but he didn’t want his dad knowing that. He turned and lowered his head onto his pillow. Its comfort was no longer familiar and he was definitely not going to let it woo him back to sleep. His dad pulled his covers around him like he used to when he was smaller and ruffled his hair.

“You’ll talk to me when you’re ready, right?”

Stiles met his eyes and nodded. “Do you want me to stay?”

He shook his head, “No, you have work in the morning.”

The nightly hours crawled painfully slowly so between his dad’s check-ups, he would remove the bracelet and move objects around the room with his telekinesis, once he managed to arrange the row of shoes in front of the closet into alphabetical colour order. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around this whole witch thing but it was clearly not a hallucination.

By the time the sun began making itself known, the Adderall was wearing off but he was still not in the market for any form of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

At least Derek had given him the courtesy of calling ahead. The clandestine location of their meeting made him uneasy.

“You seem calm for a werewolf who just called a meeting with a hunter.” He told Derek as he got out of the car.

Derek shrugged, “You live by a code. I haven’t killed anyone and you have no reason to kill me.”

“That doesn’t make us friends. In any universe.” Chris holstered his gun. “What do you want?”

Derek reached for something inside his jacket pocket and tossed it at Chris, “This is yours, I believe.”

The item was wrapped in a cloth and Chris deftly unwrapped it. It was a piece of metal the size of a child’s palm. The metal was partially melted and seemed to have come from a much larger piece. Its edges were charred as if a welding torch had gone crazy on it. Chris lifted his head from the object, “Am I supposed to know what this is?”

“Turn it over.” Derek barked.

On some level, Chris knew what he would find before he even saw it. The silver fleur-de-lis engraved on the metal, slightly deformed by heat but still proud and obvious.  
“Where did you get this?” He moved his fingers over the shape.

“It is yours, right?” Derek asked but didn't phrase it as a question.

“Where—?”

“I found this in the building... structure where Stiles was held captive for over a year. I would like to know how he wound up there and how you didn’t know that.” Chris started to speak but Derek carried on, “You live by a code. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe that you had no idea about this place and about what they did to him.”

“I didn’t... I don’t.”

“Your family owns that building.” Derek pointed out.

Argent knew how this looked and certainly knew how this looked to Derek, “My father told me that building was decommissioned years ago.”

“And you believed him?”

Argent shrugged, “It was back at the time I believed him to be an honourable man. When I believed our cause to be singular and pure.” He looked at the shard again, “Are you sure this is where Stiles was held?”

“What’s going on, Argent? Is your family responsible for what happened to Stiles?”

The older man stood silently for a few minutes before nodding, “I had my suspicions when I saw him, his injuries but this,” he turned the shard in his hand, “my father was the one who took Stiles.”

Derek knew his anger was misdirected but an Argent was once again responsible for violence that had cost lives, “Why?” He asked and curled his hand into a fist. Argent said nothing at first so Derek snapped, “The truth!”

Chris went silent for a full minute before shaking his head, “I am breaking so many of our laws by telling you this.” He let out a humourless chuckle. Derek didn’t respond so Argent sighed, “It’s not common knowledge but often, hunters contract out the tracking and trapping of supernatural to other supernatural creatures. Witches mostly.”

“Are you serious?” dark browns knitted in anger.

“According to my father, over time, werewolves, supernatural beings got smarter, learned to move unnoticed, learned to live under our radars and hunters had to find more... creative ways of—”

“—hunting us down. I get it.” Derek filled in the rest with a humourless nod.

“Now, understand that most if not all of this is dependent upon finding a witch willing to ally with hunters. These were usually witches who had suffered at the hands of other supernatural beings.”

“And?”

“Over the generations, there have been factions of hunters who have felt that witches are just as dangerous as shifters and they have made it their mission to purge them from the face of the earth.”

Derek gave him a deadpan look, “Wow, hunters who pretend to befriend then use supernatural beings then betrayed them. What else is new?”

Argent ignored the comment directed at his sister, “Because of that, most witches closed ranks and went off the grid. It’s become harder and harder to find witches for the last fifty years. Most people now believe that they’re a myth, a fairytale.”

“How did your father even know about Stiles?” no one knew about him. He hadn’t raised any flags to make anyone even consider that he was anything but a hyperactive kid with a baseball bat.

Argent shifted his weight, “As you know, we have a bestiary. We also have records. It’s how we know which supernatural beings are born and which are made. I’ll have to take a look at it. Maybe there are records of his family tree.”

“What does your father want with him? He can barely control his powers.”

Both men looked out to the river, “Whatever Gerard has planned for Stiles,” Argent shook his head, “It can’t be good.

*

Isaac was already running when he left Derek’s building. He’d been cooped up inside all day because of the midterm paper he had not-so-conveniently forgotten about until the last day.

Derek was no help with his stupid ‘you won’t learn anything if just give you the answers bit.’

What was the point of having the same teacher give the same assignment to students every year without any creative changes?

He made a beeline for the woods and let his mind and breathing become one with the night and sky. He went faster as he got further but consciously circled the relatively safe part of the forest. He could never get tired of this feeling. For someone who had spent the majority of his childhood in a freezer, this was free and happy.

Sensitive ears caught a noose that didn’t belong to the forest. A foot breaking a branch? Or a hand closing over a log? The sound made him slow down but not stop.

It was the whispering that got him to stop. It was as if a thousand tiny mouths were telling secrets to each other in the hush of night.

Isaac knew better than to call out and ask who was there. That was how people got killed.

He used his wolf’s eyes to scan the area around him for signs that he wasn’t alone. He almost didn’t need to see or hear anything to know that something was out there, something sinister. With steady feet, he backtracked and doubled back the way he had come, hoping to confuse the whispers but the came after him, getting louder as he went. Soon a fog rolled in and the whispering got louder.

Something caught under his foot and he went flying through the air and to a tree.

The force knocked the wind out of him but he had no time to bellyache about it. He scrambled to his feet and looked around, fangs and claws out.

The whispers resumed as a dark figure walked – no hobbled toward him. His eyes failed to discern who or what they were. He started to run but the figure hurled an object at him. The object popped mid-air and scattered around him.

His senses shuddered and his breath hitched. A perfect circle surrounded him.

Mountain ash.

The figure came faster and Isaac struggled to get out of the ring. It was futile.

The whispers stopped as the figure reached him. He still couldn’t see who or what it was. It was hooded and seemed faceless and oddly shaped. The general outline said it was a human. But this... let’s say person, gave off no scent and did not move like a human.

“Please don’t do this.” He whispered, body shaking.

The figure muttered something and began reaching for Isaac’s chest. Scarred, disfigured fingers dug into his chest and he felt himself shift into his werewolf form.

Panic chilled his bones, what made him shift? He hadn’t meant to. Something hot prickled on his side, like a match being struck.

The fingers breached his skin and sternum and he felt himself grow cold; as if the life was leaving him. A noise came into his head and grew louder. The figure began to draw its fingers out and he knew that it was taking something from him.

He made a strangled noise as he felt his very body cleave apart and pain paralyzed him.

The figure stopped and relief came briefly, then the figure began to tug. Something kept it from yanking its prize out but it would not be deterred.

The chill Isaac felt was replaced by molten heat that originated from his side and a force shoved the figured away, shattering the ring of mountain ash. Isaac jumped out of the circle and made for the figure but it let out a venomous shriek and disintegrated into the night.

Isaac heaved shaky breaths and looked around with a ‘what the actual fuck?’ look on his face. His legs refused to let him run so he settled for shuffling at a pace. He didn't let himself stop until he reached Derek's loft.

Derek was reading on the couch when the wave of terror drew his head up. Whoever was coming was terrified out of their mind. He closed the book and padded to the door. Isaac poured in just as Derek’s hand lifted to the handle.

Other than the sheen of sweat, ragged hyperventilation and the torn front of his shirt, Isaac did not seem worse for wear.

“Are you okay?” Derek kneeled next to the boy as he gasped for air.

Isaac nodded through the harsh breaths, “Fine. I’m fine.” he gasped and pushed himself to a sitting position.

Derek’s brows furrowed, “What’s going on?”

“I was out running. Something attacked me.”

Derek stood and walked to the kitchen while Isaac made himself walk to a more comfortable place in the room. Derek came back with a glass of water and stoically waited until Isaac drained it.

“What was it?”

Isaac shook his head, “Scary? He... she... it... trapped me inside a ring of mountain ash.”

Knowing Isaac’s history with confinement, Derek decided not to comment on that.

“Did it attack you?”

Isaac nodded and motioned for the torn t-shirt, “Claws, fingers... it reached inside me, for my heart? No, I didn’t bleed but I did feel this cold, overwhelming dread, as if... as if my life was leaving my body.” Tears slipped freely out of his eyes and he sniffled.

“How did you escape? No offense but, Ennis was an Alpha and he didn’t survive this.” Derek walked to the opposite end of the room and walked back.

Isaac shook his head, “All I know is one second I’m literally watching my life flash before my eyes and the next the thing killing me is being thrown ten yards away from me, the ring broke and I made a run for it.”

“Would you be able to show me where this happened?” Isaac’s eyes rounded and widened, “Not right now, I have a feeling we’d need to make this a day trip.”

His breathing finally evened out, “Agreed.”

“Get some sleep.” Derek ordered.

*

Chris Argent found the next body. Technically, it was Lydia who found it but she was working on a paper with Allison when the same cloud of quiet dread fell over her head. She trailed off her speech, dropped her pen and as if pulled by puppet strings, stood from Allison’s desk chair and walked out of the room.

Allison didn’t waste time asking what the matter was, just reached for her jacket, bow and arrow, and cellphone.

Her father was in his study and she called to him as she followed the entrance girl.

“Dad, I’ve got to go. Lydia’s... well, I have to go.”

Chris rose from his desk and followed.

“Wait, I’m coming with you.” He picked up his car keys and followed.

Allison sighed, “Dad, I don’t think thing means for Lydia to drive there. I’ll just follow on foot.”

Chris nodded, “I’ll drive after you... make sure you’re okay.”

Both Argents nodded and walked after Lydia.

Lydia didn’t go very far this time, she turned up the street to Scott’s house but walked right past it to the grove of trees.

They didn’t find a dead body that time.

They found a dying body.

And a killing figure.

And an unconscious boy.

The unconscious boy lay a few yards away from the dying boy and his would be murderer.

Lydia stopped as the figure crossed the barrier of mountain ash.

Allison nocked an arrow and aimed at the hooded figure. The figure turned to face her for a second and deemed her as non-threatening.

Chris showed up as - with avid fascination - the figure reached into the dying boy’s chest, tugged and pulled out a dark formless substance that shrieked in agony. The boy stiffened for a second then went slack. The dark substance lingered in the air for a few seconds then sank into the figure’s form. The figure turned from its victim and moved toward the unconscious boy.

Allison drew back her bow and shot the figure. The arrow disintegrated as it reached its mark and the figure lifted a hand.

A wall of energy hit Allison but dissipated instead of shoving her away. This seemed to shock the figure but not enough to deter it. It turned its attention back to the boy and   
Allison fire another arrow, this time along with her dad. The same effect came, only that time, the figure grew angry. With blinding speed, it reached Allison. It watched her with unseen eyes and decided she was unworthy. Next it moved to the immobile Lydia. She seemed to have what it wanted as it reached for her heart and struggled as it had with the frightened boy in the woods a few days before.

Lydia opened her mouth as let out a deafening scream that sent the figure flying through the air with a violet flash of light.

Chris ordered the girls to stay where they were before trotting after the figure.

Allison moved to her side, “You okay?”

Lydia nodded soundlessly. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Lydia murmured while staring at the dead body. She walked to it as if spellbound. “His shadow. It’s gone.”

Allison looked at the body, not seeing what Lydia was talking about.

A moan caught her attention and she slung her bow and walked to the unconscious boy. “This one is still... wait a minute.” She pulled out her phone and turned on its flashlight. “They’re twins.”

Lydia seemed to be coming out of her trance, “What?” She asked and walked to where Allison stood.

“Why kill that one and not this one?” Allison asked.

“I think it wanted to kill both of them.” Lydia said and knelt next to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness, he was also barricaded by a ring of mountain ash.  
Chris came back just as Lydia was examining the fading cut on the boy’s temple.

“Did you find it?” Allison asked.

He shook his head, “It moved too fast.”

“Werewolf?”

He shook his head again, “It didn’t move like one and it didn’t leave any tracks.” He walked to the dead boy, “What exactly did it do to him?”

“Lydia says it took his shadow.”

Chris scowled and shone a light over him, checking for injuries. The lack of pulse was the only thing that said the boy was dead. That and the permanent expression of horror on his face.

“Shadow, like soul?” He asked and stood up.

Lydia nodded, “This isn’t the first one.”

Allison read her father’s body language easily, “But you knew that already.”

He didn’t bother denying it, “At first I thought it was garden-variety murder but the lack of injuries on the bodies bugged me. Now...” he looked at the corpse again.

“What do you think it is?”

Chris shook his head, “I don’t want to speculate, I’ll need to consult someone.”

He crossed to the unconscious boy, “We need to get out of here before that thing comes back for this one.”

“We’re taking him with us.” Lydia declared.

Chris didn’t argue, he reached down and lifted the boy. Allison helped keep him upright.

“What about his brother?” Allison asked.

“I’ll call the cleaners.” Chris said. “We can’t risk exposing civilians to this madness.”

Lydia walked to the dead boy, looked at him with a sad expression and knelt down to close his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

This body had been discovered by a man walking his dog. It was floating in the river and despite the light current, didn’t drift. The man’s dog had barked at the body until he stopped and scanned the water.

After a heart-stopping surprise, he had called for help and not half an hour later the body of a teenager had been declared dead and sent to the hospital morgue. She seemed to have drowned but the tell-tale line of bruising around her neck spoke of a different manner in which she met her death. It was different from the strange bodies surrounded by mountain ash, Lydia didn't find it or find out about it.

The name Jane Doe was assigned to her and the sheriff’s office was notified to look into her death.

*

Deaton was in the basement of his clinic poring over old fragile books when the Argents showed up with Lydia and the boy who was still a little, no, a lot out of it. He closed the book and stretched his neck before walking up the stairs to open the front door.

“Sorry for showing up like this, Alan.” Chris said.

Deaton relieved Allison of the boy’s weight and helped Argent move him to the treatment area. “Call Derek and Scott. Isaac too.” Deaton said as he moved a light over the boy’s eyes.

“Why?” Allison asked as she shut the door.

Deaton checked the boy’s pulse, “While I don’t doubt your capabilities as Hunters, this boy is an Alpha. Judging by the mark on his wrist, he belongs to a pack of Alphas.”

Chris nodded and pulled out his phone. “What’s powerful enough to kill an Alpha like this?”

A pensive look crossed Deaton’s features and he shook his head, “I honestly don’t know.”

Scott, Derek and Isaac arrived half and hour later and the boy was still out cold.

Lydia’s eyes widened at Isaac’s haggard appearance, “What happened to you?”

Isaac let himself sink to a chair, “Uh... um... just... uh.” He shook his head and resisted the urge to hug himself.

“He was attacked last night.” Derek explained.

“By the same person?” Chris asked.

“The ring if mountain ash can’t have been a coincidence.” Derek said and gave Isaac another concerned look, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Isaac nodded.

Deaton moved away from the unconscious boy and addressed Isaac, “What exactly happened?”

Isaac tried to describe in as much detail as his shot nerves could handle.

“If it was after your shadow like the others, how did you survive?” Allison asked and adjusted her bow on her shoulder. “It took my dad, Lydia, and me to even scare it away from that guy.”

“It reached into my chest and tried to... do its thing but couldn’t.” Isaac placed a hand on his chest, trying to remind himself that he was okay.

Deaton’s brows knitted, “What do you mean couldn’t?”

Isaac shook his head and gave him the same explanation he had given to Derek, “Something... I guess. This... force threw it clear off me and it was not pleased.”

“How did you do that?” Chris asked.

Deaton gave this some thought then said, “Lift up your shirt.”

All the eyebrows in the room rose, “What? Why?”

“This thing is powerful enough to incapacitate and kill Alphas and yet you made it out alive, I have a theory but I have to see your torso to confirm it.”

Isaac complied and turned so the doctor could check.

“What is _that_?” Lydia asked with a shocked frown.

There was a coin-sized mark on the side of Isaac’s chest near the bottom of his ribcage. It looked like a capital letter Y with a vertical line through the middle.

“ _Algiz_.” Chris said, “A protective rune.”

“A what?” Isaac followed Deaton’s line of sight. It took some doing but he managed to see the mark on his skin. It looked as if it had been made by a knife or a branding iron but it made no sense. Any injuries he sustained healed completely thanks to his werewolf physiology.

“It’s a Druid mark to ward off evil.” Derek said and turned to Deaton, “Did you—?”

Deaton shook his head, “My abilities are healing, knowledge and wisdom. I don’t wield this kind of power.”

“Who does?” Allison asked.

“Stiles?” Lydia suggested and shrugged.

Deaton considered that with a tilt of his head, “It is possible but his powers are new, how could he possibly know how to place a protective charm like that?”

“Who else, though?” asked Lydia, “I mean, unless there’s another witch we know.”

“Okay, assuming he did, why would he want to protect Isaac?” Scott asked then turned to Isaac, “No offense, man.”

Isaac shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh none taken. I’m wondering the same thing.” He pulled his shirt down.

Allison reached forward and lifted Scott’s t-shirt and checked his chest, “Scott has it too.” She moved to Lydia, “So does, Lydia. Three is a pattern. We should all check.” She lifted her shirt and turned so Lydia could see.

After a few moments, it turned out that everyone in the room had the _Algiz_ rune except for the boy who lay unconscious.

“So this kept that thing from killing me?” Isaac mumbled. “But why would Stiles do that?”

Deaton’s face had a worried look, “I’m more concerned about the how. It takes tremendous amounts of practice and energy to do that.”

“Maybe he knows who the killer is and what they are taking shifter shadows for.” Allison hugged her arms. “I know it’s asking a lot of him but we need to get an idea of what he knows.”

Scott shook his head, “It’s not gonna be easy, he clams up if you even mention his disappearance or says he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Were they all shifters?” Lydia asked.

“Ennis and this guy’s brother were definitely. I’m not sure about the other ones.” Derek said. “But it went after Isaac and used mountain ash to subdue them, so I’m gonna say yes.”

“The first two bodies belonged to a pack I had been tracking for months. They hadn’t broken any laws so there was no cause to act.” Argent supplied and Derek grimaced.

Scott opened his mouth to talk but was cut off by the soft agonized moans from the boy as he stirred.

Everyone changed their stances, Allison put down her bow and pulled out a dagger from its holster, Scott and Derek stepped in front of Deaton and Lydia, and Argent reached for his gun but didn’t point it at the boy.

He lifted a hand to his head and moaned again then got up to sit; slowly until he saw the room.

His eyes turned blue and his canines elongated. The fatigue must have told him that to attack would be to bite off more than he could chew so he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down.

“Where am I?” He asked, his hand still on his chest and his breathing still laboured.

Deaton stepped out from behind the werewolves’ protection and raised a hand, “You’re safe.”

He looked around, “Where is my brother?”

“Why don’t you tell us your name?”

“Ethan.” He winced and swayed.

“No one is going to hurt you as long as you stay calm.” Deaton told him.

Ethan nodded, “Can I have some water, please.”

It was the please that did it, Allison put her weapons away, the werewolves calm down but stayed alert. Scott walked to the water fountain and filled a paper cup with water.

“What happened to you?” He asked as he handed the cup over.

“Where is my brother?” He asked again and took a careful sip.

“You two were attacked, he didn’t make it.” Argent said as gently as he could muster for a dead werewolf.

“Do you know what attacked you?” Deaton asked, Isaac flinched.

He shook his head and gulped down the rest of the water, “It... she came out of nowhere. She was fast and really, really strong. We tried to fight at first but it...” he shuddered and   
crushed the cup in his hand.

“She?” Derek’s brows furrowed, “You’re sure it was a woman?”

Ethan nodded, “At some point I pulled her off of Aiden and her hood came off.” He cringed, “She barely looked like a person but her scent, it was a woman.”

Allison gauged the silence in the room and decided to ask the question that had bothering her, “You and your brother tried to kidnap Stiles. What do you want from him?”

Recognition crossed Scott and Derek’s features, “Yeah, it’s you. From the hospital.”

Ethan shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze, “Our Alpha ordered us to. Ours isn’t a pack of options and requests.”

“Why does your Alpha want him?” Argent asked.

Ethan looked around the room and visibly squirmed, “He knows who that woman is. She works for the people who took him.”

“And how exactly, were you planning on getting him to tell you?” Derek’s time had the beginnings of a low pitched growl.

Ethan shook his head, “Look, we weren’t going to hurt him, but big picture here. This woman is killing werewolves. She killed my brother. Stiles knows who she is and...” his voice wobbled and broke and he looked at his hands again.

“Why were you out there tonight? Were you looking for him again?” Derek asked.

Ethan’s shoulders dropped in defeat and he huffed, “Yeah. We just need to talk to him. Find out what he knows.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “And yeah, these conversations just have to take place in the cover of darkness.”

“It’s the only time he was alone. You guys never seem to leave him.” Ethan complained.

“Oh how inconsiderate of us.” Scott scoffed and placed a hand on his chest. The sarcasm in his voice would have made Stiles proud had he been in the room.

“Look. Stiles knows more than he’s telling you and you’re tiptoeing around him like he’s made of glass. Something is here, killing werewolves and Stiles knows what it is.”

Silence passed around the room. No one wanted to admit that the Alpha they couldn’t trust was right but they knew he was.

“Give us one reason we should trust you.” Allison folded her arms.

Ethan sighed, chuckled then threw his hands in the air, “It doesn’t matter. My brother is dead. Trust me, don’t trust me. I honestly don’t care. I can’t go back to my pack, not without Aiden and certainly not with another failure.” He shook his head and slid off the table. “Unless you’re planning on keeping me hostage, I’m going to go now.”

“Where?” Asked Lydia.

“Out of town?” He shrugged dejectedly, “If you guys are smart, you would leave too. Whatever this thing is, it won’t stop until it gets what it wants.” He passed a tired look around the room and nodded. “Well then, thank you for saving my life. All the best.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am introducing an original character and she speaks French sporadically. On the record: I totally used Google Translate and pray to the gods that I didn't butcher this beautiful language. If you wish to correct me, I will totally appreciate it.  
> Back to the story. Enjoy!

No one really ever talked about how strangely Stiles had been acting after he was found. He barely slept, he barely ate and most of all, he vanished off the face of the earth from time to time, usually in the wee hours of the morning. It drove his father and his friends insane but when they did find him, he was unscathed and remembered nothing of where he had gone. The sleep walking was something he had done after the passing of his mother but this was different.

Melissa saw Stiles walk in through the hospital entrance. After the last kidnapping attempt, everyone was on high alert when it came to the sheriff’s son so Melissa texted Sheriff Stilinski as soon as he saw Stiles.

“Stiles, sweetheart, are you okay?” She asked and rose from her seat at the nurse’s station.

Stiles gave her a blank smile and walked past as if he hadn’t seen her. Melissa frowned and watched him walk - no, shuffle - down the hall. “Stiles?” She called after him.

Something was wrong, she reached for her phone and called the sheriff. Their close friends and family had a system for tracking him. If you saw him, you called someone so he could be tracked otherwise once he vanished, he vanished properly.

Noah showed up in record time along with Scott, and Melissa told them that Stiles had gone downstairs.

He wasn’t walking very fast because the trio caught up with him as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Stiles?” Scott called but he didn’t even turn. “Where is he going?”

Melissa watched as Stiles walked past them, “There’s only the morgue down here.”

Stilinski scowled and stepped out of the lift, “What? Why on earth would he be going to the morgue? Is that where he goes every time he disappears?”

Scott shook his head, "No, I don't think so. Sometimes he's covered in leaves and other times his feet are dirty as if he's been walking barefoot in the woods." 

“Do you think he’s sleepwalking?” Melissa asked, “I mean he _is_ barefoot and in pyjamas.”

Stilinski slowly shook his head and muttered, “It’s possible. He hasn’t been sleeping much but... what the hell are you going to a morgue for, Stiles?”

And without skipping a beat, Stiles stopped at the door and pushed it open. They followed him.

Stiles walked straight to Jane Doe’s metal table. The ME hadn't done an autopsy on her.

“Oh! Uh, that’s a dead body.” Melissa said and hurried forward to stop him.

Stiles pulled the plastic sheet off her face and a pause later, placed his hands on either side of her face. They stopped when they saw his eyes change colour.

There was a lull between the moments. One moment Stiles was standing over the dead girl’s body, the next moment the girl gasped and bolted from supine to a sitting position, her hands clawed at her throat.

Everyone had different reactions.

Scott’s eyes turned gold and his claws came out.

Sheriff Stilinski reached for his gun.

Melissa made the sign of the cross.

Stiles turned to face the three of them before his eyes faded out from purple to golden brown and dropping to the floor.

The girl hyperventilated and looked around, gulping lungfuls of hair.

She looked at her hands and turned them over a few times as if she wasn’t really seeing them.

“What? Where?” She whipped her head around, sending her hair flying along. Her eyes rounded when she saw that she wasn’t alone, “People! Naked!” She stopped breathing for a second and she closed her eyes, “Please don’t tell me I’m naked in front of people.” She took a deep breath and snapped a finger. Clothes materialised on her: a black oversized hoodie, leggings and boots. Her long hair disappeared into the hoodie but a few strands fell over her eyes.

Scott, Melissa and the sheriff flinched from the surprise.

Another cautious look around had her jumping off the table and throwing herself on the floor next, “Oh my God! Stiles!” She cried and touched his face before shaking him. “Stiles?   
Stiles!”

She shook him but he didn’t respond.

She murmured something and waved a glowing hand over him but Stiles did not stir. “Seven devils!” She swore then turned to the three. “We should probably get him out of here before he wakes up.”

She moved and Scott growled menacingly while the Sheriff pointed a gun at her, “Whoa there, why don’t you step away from my son? Then we can talk.” Stilinski gestured for her to get away with the barrel of his gun.

The girl met his eyes for a second before shuffling away, “Please don’t shoot me.” She held her hands up, her words were lightly accented with a French lilt and the panic made it stronger.

Melissa knelt next to Stiles and checked his pulse, “He’s alive. He’s breathing.”

“What did you do to him?” Stilinski asked the girl.

“What? I don’t even know where I am.” She looked at her hands, “or how I got here?”

“But you know Stiles?” Scott pointed out.

“What? Yes! We were held together at... wait he didn’t tell you about me?” She dropped her hands and sighed. “Can we just move him out of this place that looks like a morgue?” She trailed off and really took in her surroundings, “Is this a morgue? This is a morgue. Am I dead? _Am I dead_?” Her voice rose and lights flickered over her. “ _Est-ce une morgue? C’est une morgue. Je suis dans une morgue! Est-ce que je suis mort?_ ” She gathered her thoughts quickly and shook her head before calmly asking again in English.

Stilinski put his gun away and walked to her, “No. But I think you were.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull, “What?” She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter, let’s just get him out of here.” Nobody moved so she sighed and vanished from her spot on the floor and reappeared next to Stiles. A second later, she vanished from the room, taking Stiles with her.

Cold panic gripped the sheriff and he looked around, Melissa held a hand to her heart and looked around. Before they could move or respond, the girl reappeared in the floor, breathing heavily. “Whoa, that one nearly killed me.”

Scott charged and shoved her into the wall with his claw-tipped hand on her throat, “Where the hell is he? What did you do to him?”

The girl, to her credit, remained calm and raised her hands again, “I see that that was a bad idea winnowing him out of here but it’s just that he doesn’t do well with freaking out and... well this is a room full of dead people.” Scott growled and her breath hitched, “He’s back home, in his room, in his bed.”

“What... how?” The sheriff asked, a gun pointed at her.

She closed her eyes and sighed softly, “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Can we all just take a deep breath and calm down? _Calm down. Calm down_.” She crooned the last of her words and a cloud of warm, soothing, safe air fell over the room. Everyone relaxed, the sheriff put his gun away and Scott released his grasp on the girl. “Good.” She gingerly touched her neck and tested the muscles there.

Without knowing why he was no longer worried about his son, the sheriff asked in an even voice, “Why don’t you tell us who you are?”

“My name is Diana Clarice Grantaire, I am eighteen years old. I was born on the 16th of April. I am from Lakewood, New Orleans. I am a witch.”

Scott gave her a deadpan look, “A witch?”

She nodded, “Yeah, like Stiles.” She gave that another thought, “Well, not like Stiles. I’m an empath and he’s an elemental. If you want to get technical.”

Melissa looked at Stilinski, “Is this girl serious? Stiles? A witch?”

Scott fixed his mother with a neutral look, “Yeah, he is. We hadn’t put you up to speed with that one.”

She threw her hands in the air, “Why am I always the last to know?”

Stilinski addressed the girl with narrowed eyes, “How do you know that? Were you the one who unbound his powers?”

Diana shook her head, “No. That was...” she frowned and met his eyes, “He didn’t tell you?”

Scott sighed, “He says he doesn’t remember anything. It was dark all the time.”

She gave an _'oh honey’_ look, “Of course he said that. What they did to him...” she shivered and shook her head. The sheriff gave her a pained look, “it’s why they took him. I assume... hope you at least knew that.”

“Okay. I get that my best friend is a witch. But how did he... like... wake you from the dead?” Scott waved his hand at the now empty metal table.

Melissa nodded and unconsciously reached for her cross, “Yes, I’d like to know that too.”

Diana was silent for a few seconds, then the corners of her mouth turned down, “Your guess is as good as mine. Witches can’t wake the dead. No one can.”

Silence passed in the room for a full minute before the sheriff asked, “How do you know my son? How does he know you?”

Diana’s eyes drifted to the middle distance, “We were held captive together. There were others.”

Scott frowned, “Other witches?”

She hugged herself and stifled a shiver, “Not just witches. Werewolves, werecoyotes, sirens...”

“What about...?”

Diana cut the sheriff off, “I’m sorry but, can we just check on Stiles? I don’t know how he woke me and I don’t know why he passed out.”

They all nodded in agreement, Melissa patted her son’s shoulder, “Call me when there’s news.”

Scott nodded back and walked out of the morgue.

“So what is this place? Where am I?” Diana asked on the car ride back to the Stilinski house.

“Beacon Hills, California.” Scott said.

She shook her head, “Cal– how the hell did I get here?”

The sheriff took that one, “You were... well, your body was found floating in the river a few days ago. You had no ID on you and the preliminary cause of death was drowning.”

“Do you know where you and Stiles were held?” Scott asked her.

She shook her head, “It was dark there. All the time. And we were often too drugged up to really know what was going on. What little I could learn was from my limited soul sight.”

“So how did you take Stiles to his room?” Scott asked after the silence swelled to uncomfortable levels.

“It’s called winnowing. Almost all witches can do it. It takes tremendous amounts of energy and practice and you have to know... see where you’re going.”

Stilinski’s eyes narrowed, “If you’ve never been to Beacon Hills, how did you know where my house was? How did you know where Stiles’ room was? Did you even send him home?”

She resisted the urge to inject more calm into the air and instead answered, “I haven’t been to his room before but Stiles has. As an empath, I can not only feel and influence human emotions but also see the emotional tethers of a person. I decided to search for a place Stiles associates with safety and that was his house. His room. That and a robin’s egg blue car. I thought house was better.”

The car pulled into the driveway, “For your sake, you better hope you were right. Otherwise, you just sent my son to the moon for all I know.”

She turned out to be right. Despite the fatigue and confusion, she had managed to bring Stiles home and place him carefully on his bed. His posture wasn’t of one who was sleeping by of an unconscious body.

Diana heaved a relieved sigh, “See, I know what I’m doing.” She shook him again, “What’s going on with you?” She murmured and moved a glowing hand over him again. “I don’t understand why he’s like this.” She shook her head.

“How did he wake you from the dead?” Scott asked.

His dad ruffled his son’s hair and have a worried shake of his head.

She shook her head, “No idea.” her eyes drifted shut and she tried to find her way into his mind, calling his name as she went.

“What are you doing?” Stilinski asked.

“Trying to wake him? _Trying_ being the operative word.” She answered without opening her eyes. After a minute of nothing working she dropped her head, “Seven devils!”

“It’s okay, he’s just sleeping. He hasn’t been sleeping well.” Stilinski shrugged and draped a comforter over Stiles.

Diana shook her head, but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. She pushed the strands of hair from his forehead and decided not to worry anyone, “I’ll check on him in the morning.”


	10. Chapter 10

He didn’t wake up by morning and the sheriff left Scott and Lydia watching over him when he went to work. They were talking about the recent dead body when Diana appeared on Stiles’ desk chair.

Scott almost knocked his head on the corner of the table and Lydia gasped and clutched her heart.

“Good morning,” she chirped. Today she wore a short black lace-collar dress with black stockings and Mary-Jane shoes. Her white hair was cropped to a chin-length bob and she had blood-red lipstick.

“Where did you sleep? And did you cut your hair?” Scott asked Diana as she crossed her legs at the ankles.

“Home.” She shrugged, “I can winnow anywhere.” She stood from the chair and knelt next to Stiles, “Still not awake?”

Scott shook his head.

Diana turned and looked at Lydia, “Oh goodness, so rude of me.” She smiled at her, “You must be Lydia. I’m Diana.” She held out a hand to her.

Lydia looked at the hand, “How do you know—?”

Diana smiled wryly, “Unless Stiles has another strawberry blonde friend who is five foot three and has impeccable dress sense. You are Lydia. Stiles told me about you.” Lydia frowned, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing weird. Stiles told me about most of you guys. The chatting, when he was up for it, helped us forget about the dark scary place we were in.” She gave a big smile for a second then dropped her head.

“Is there anything you can do?” Lydia broke the silence.

Diana shook her head, “I have no idea. His mind is barricaded, was probably barricaded by his mum and a ward like that is impossible to breach. If only there was another witch, they could help.” She tapped her chin and thought. “Unlikely, you guys had no idea that witches were real.”

“My boss is kind of a witch. He’s a druid?” Scott said.

Diana’s eyes shimmered, “A druid?! Even better! They are super smart... like nerd witches.” She rose to her feet and clapped her hands, “He might be able to help. Let’s go!”

“No! I’m not gonna... teleport anywhere with you. We’re driving.” Scott said with a raised hand.

“She can teleport?” Lydia looked at Scott.

Diana chuckled, “I’m pretty accurate with my winnowing but you’re right, I can’t take more than one person at a time without risking a splitting headache and my nose bleeding like a faucet. Driving it is. Just help me with him.”

The drive to the animal clinic consisted of intermittent questions from Lydia to Scott about Diana, a soft hum from Diana while absently brushing Stiles’ hair and looking at the rolling landscape and the near silent thrum of Lydia’s car engine.

Deaton was ready for them courtesy of Lydia’s idea to call ahead in case the good doctor had patients. Scott carried Stiles inside and placed him on a bench.

“How long has he been like this? Who is this?” He asked questions in quick succession.

Diana gave a wide toothy smile and offered a hand, “Hi. I’m Diana, a French Quarter witch and he passed out last night when he apparently woke me from the dead.”

Deaton frowned and drew back before turning to Scott and asking, “Is she on drugs?”

Scott was silent for a few seconds, “I honestly have no idea, but she is telling the truth. She was at the hospital morgue and Stiles, like, resurrected her.” He held out his arms at her in presentation.

Deaton looked at Scott as if he’d lost his marbles, “That’s not possible. No one has the power to wake the dead.”

“What exactly do you mean when you say raised him from the dead” Lydia asked with a skeptical look on her face.

“I was dead in a morgue and then I was awake. Stiles passed out around then.” Diana said, “I tried to use my empathic powers to wake him but nothing worked.”

Deaton looked at the unconscious boy and shook his head, “Stiles should not have been able to wake you and even if he had, it wouldn’t explain the state he is in.”

“So, can we wake him? Then maybe we can get answers from him.” Diana said.

Deaton was silent for a long time, his face had a pensive look. “Diana, how exactly was his power woken?”

Diana’s face closed off for a second, a shiver passed through her, “Well, first they tried with _mentis imperium_ – mind control, basically – but as I said, his mind has wards on top of wards on top of wards.” She went silent but realised that they were waiting for the rest of her answer.

She took a deep breath and murmured something under her breath, it was the same thing Scott and Lydia had seen Stiles do when panic overwhelmed him, “So they tortured him for it.”

Everyone knew from the number of cuts and bruises that violence had befallen their chatty human friend but no one had wanted to speak of it. The fact that Stiles claimed to not remember told them that he didn’t want to speak about it.

Diana leaned on the wall and hugged herself, “Months...” she heaved word and tears fell, “It took months, he never…” her breath hitched, “Never stopped screaming. I can still hear it.” She closed her eyes again and urged calm to her system, “Calm. Calm.” She murmured and a second later, her face deadpanned, “Then one day, he... his powers woke. He vapourised like ten guards in this strange bright light. I guess they managed to force his mind to break the seal.” She shook her head, “But a lock that profound... no... it couldn’t be...” she whispered mostly to herself.

“Diana?” Deaton called without looking away from Stiles, “What do you know of _Dammerzustand_?”

She pushed off the wall and threw her hands up in the air, “I’m an idiot!” she paced up and down the room.

“Is that what’s happening to Stiles?” Scott asked.

Deaton shook his head, “I think so. It’s a form of deep subconscious sleep. There dozens of these: _bhakti, bacchae, dammerzustand, maenads_ there are several others.” he paused, “ But most of them are drug-induced except—”

“—except for _catabasis_.” Diana whispered.

 _“Catabasis?”_ Lydia asked.

“Yes! It affects male witches around his age. The word translates to 'descent into the self' or something. The same thing happened to my brother when he was fifteen.”

“You have a brother?” Scott asked with a frown.

Dianna nodded, “He’s dead now. Not killed by the _catabasis_ , I swear.”

“That’s good news, then.” Deaton said.

“It is?” Scott and Lydia spoke together.

Diana gave another million kilowatt smile, “We don’t need to wake him. We need to wait for him. He’ll be out of it in a day or two.”

“But we’ll need to place a beacon in his mind do he’ll find a way out.” Deaton suggested.

“Why?” Lydia asked, “Won’t he just wake up?”

Deaton and Diana shook their heads, “Most witches go into catabasis voluntarily but he slipped into it, the door in his mind might be shut.”

“In which case he will be lost forever in the maze if his mind.” Deaton completed then turned to Diana, “Will you be able to help him?”

Diana gave it some thought, touched Stiles’ arm then moved her gaze to Lydia, “I’m gonna need some help from you.”

Lydia blinked, “What?”

“You’re a banshee.” She nodded, “Emotions are my thing and souls are yours. I’m gonna need you to help me place a beacon.”

Lydia blinked again, “Okay. We’ll talk about how you know that at some point but for now, tell me what to do.”

Diana held out a hand, “Give me your hand.” She complied, “And take his with your other one.”

Both girls took Stiles’ hands and closed their eyes. “Oh! I forgot the—” when she opened her eyes, Deaton was placing a bowl with a purple plant on he table, “You are a genius! See? I told you Druids were super smart.” She closed her eyes just as Deaton lit the plant.

In her mind, she sent a message to Lydia, _‘Clear your mind, you are my eyes.’_

Lydia flinched but remained calm, _‘What are we doing?’_

_‘I need you to find a memory between you two. It doesn’t have to be profound, just accessible. We need to find a place he trusts so his mind won’t push us out’_

A deep breath later Lydia heard herself saying, _‘there, that one.’_ It was one from prom, when Stiles had asked him to dance and she turned him down.

Diana manoeuvred their consciousness to the sound of music and Stiles’ voice as he spoke to

Lydia at the prom.

 _‘Call him’_ , Diana urged. _‘He won’t respond but he will find your voice when he needs to come out.’_

Lydia took a deep breath and called his name with her banshee voice, not loud but significant.

 _‘Good, very good. Now let’s get out of here before his mind notices and nukes us.’_  
Lydia balked, _'what?!'_

But Diana was already moving their minds away.

When Lydia opened her eyes, she was crying. Tears rained down her cheeks and her breath came in choking sobs.

Diana let go of Stiles’ hand and pulled the banshee in for a hug, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you that emotional blowback would filter into your mind. You’re okay. That’s not  
your sorrow or pain, that’s his. Shhhhh.” She rubbed her arms and swayed with her as if she were a baby.

Lydia calmed down and stepped away, “Whoa, is that how he feels? He keeps saying he’s fine.” She strategically wiped the tears around her make up and sucked in a deep breath.

Diana shook her head, “He’s not. No one would be fine after what happened to him. I’m not okay and I didn’t have half as bad as he...” she shuddered and looked at Deaton, “Can we keep him here? Or can we take him somewhere defendable?”

“He can stay here, I’ll watch over him. Just let his father know where he is.” Deaton said.

“Why must he be somewhere defendable?” asked Scott.

“They’ll be coming for him.”

“Who?”

“The Alpha pack – what’s left of them – the Argents and their hellbitch witch Jennifer. Take your pick.” She said matter-of-factly while ticking off the items on her fingers. Silence fell in the room, “He at least told you that, right?”

Lydia’s glance panned the room, “He said he didn’t remember anything.”

Diana gave an exasperated sigh, “Okay I don’t need to be an empath to know that none of you believe that.”

Scott pulled out his phone and dialled, "I'll call Derek, Isaac and Boyd. Have them on standby in case something shakes up."

A crackle of purple lightning passed through Stiles, “Is he waking up? He’s doing that thing again.”

Diana’s brows dropped to a frown and cast a sceptical gaze over him, “No, he’s... wait, is his lightning always that colour?”

Deaton mirrored her frown, “Do his eyes change colour?”

Scott spoke slowly, “Yeah, why?”

“Maybe nothing.” she spoke so softly only Scott heard her.

Another bolt passed through him and Diana held out a hand and watched it move, “No.” She whispered and stared at her hand, “No way.”

“What is it?” Scott asked.

Diana stopped marvelling at her hand, “Did anyone get hit by it?”

Lydia answered with knitted brows, “No. Is it dangerous?”

Diana slowly shook her head, “No. The opposite. It’s just...” her face opened into a smile, “Claudia Stilinski was one smart lady.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Scott asked.

Diana laughed again and whispered, “How did they know though?” She clapped a hand over her mouth and stepped away.

Scott, Lydia and Deaton looked at her as if she had grown a second head but Diana didn’t care.

“It’s... _mon deux... l’étincelle de la vie_.” She pulled at her hair and made a noise that was a cross between a chuckle and a whimper.

“Diana, what is it?” Deaton asked with a concerned face.

She covered he mouth again and shook her head frantically.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked but didn’t approach. He’d already had experience with distressed witches and distance seemed to be the way to go. Unlike Stiles, Diana reigned in her emotion with a single deep breath. The room felt quiet and warm afterwards.

“I know why they took him.” Her voice was the opposite of her brief distress.

“The spark of life. He has it.”


	11. Chapter 11

Derek’s eyes drifted to the windows, “Someone’s here.”

He'd shown up an hour after Scott called with an update of what he had found out from Argent.

Scott turned to face the same direction, “They’re not in a vehicle. Do you think—?” he knew he didn’t have to guess at who was outside. 

“The Alphas are here.” Derek stated.

Lydia’s eyes widened, “Alphas?” She whipped her head in the direction they were looking despite her limited senses, “As in more than one?”

Derek lifted his nose to the air, trying to suss out who it was past the disadvantage of a downwind position. “Two, maybe three? All Alphas.”

“One of them is different somehow,” Scott said.

“Deucalion,” Derek hissed and his eyes glowed blue. “I guess he got desperate enough to take matters into his own hands.”

“What are they after?” Diana asked and stood protectively at Stiles’ feet.

“Your boyfriend.” Derek drawled without looking at her.

Heat rose to her cheeks, “Wait, they’re after Stiles?” then she caught herself, “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Well, they’re not getting him.” Scott shook his head.

“So what’s the plan? You can’t go again three Alphas,” Lydia complained and turned back to Stiles, “Why do they want him so badly? This is insane.”

“It’s like Ethan said, they need to know what he knows.” Deaton said with more calm than was called for at the moment. "About the bodies without shadows."

Diana looked at the sleeping boy, “If it’s him they want, then they’re gonna have to go through me.” She declared, “Not that I have much in the way of combat magic. But they’re not gonna get him!”

“That’s cute, Hello Kitty, but there are three of them out there.” Derek said, “And I am not liking our odds in this.”

She touched his leg absently, “Whatever, they want, they won’t get from him. Not in this state. Nothing will wake him until he is good and ready. And if they do manage to wake him, he'll die and take them all with him.”

Scott extended his claws and canines, “Awake or not, they are not getting him. Lydia, call Isaac, Boyd and Erica. We may not be three Alphas but we won’t hand Stiles over. Not without a fight.” He turned to Dr Deaton, “Do you have any mountain ash on hand?”

Deaton almost seemed offended by the question, “Always.” He walked to his basement and collected his supply.

Diana turned to him as he returned, “Oh, may I?” she pointed at the bag of ash.

The vet-slash-druid held it out to her, “Of course.”

She reached inside and took out a handful. For a few seconds, she stared at it then looked at Derek and Scott, “You might want to not be near here so whatever you’re planning to do, do it now. I’ll buy you some time.” Derek and Scott shifted and headed outside. Diana held up the handful of mountain ash, smiled and Lydia then turned to face Stiles’ unconscious body, _“Praepedimentum.”_ She whispered and blew out the ash over him. "Well, that’s mostly all of the magic I can reliably do.”

“What are you doing?!” Lydia whispered.

“Fortifying his body with mountain ash?” she shrugged, “I mean, they’re werewolves. Alphas or not, mountain ash is mountain ash. Rules like theses barely bend and they certainly don’t break easy. No one is taking him. Not on my watch.” She squared her shoulders.

Lydia met her gaze, “Nor on mine.”

Outside, Derek stepped into the open air as the trio of Alphas speared from the cropping of trees. One of them walked with a guide cane, the other extended claws from her hands and feet and the third one extended eerily long canines.

“Boys!” The blind Alpha who answered to the name Deucalion held out his arms with an indulgent smile, “What a lovely surprise!”

“You’re not getting by us and you’re not getting Stiles.” Scott growled and his eyes glowed gold.

Deucalion kept the smile and pointed at Scott, “You must be Scott McCall.” He laughed and looked at the male Alpha who glowered at Scott, “I have plans for you.” He nodded to himself, “After this crisis has been averted, we will talk but for now, why don’t you hand over the witchboy?”

Derek growled and his eyes turned red, “We don’t hand over anyone. He has been enough.”

“We just need him to tell us who the hooded woman who has reduced my pack from an octet to a trio in the space of a month is, then we’ll be on our merry way. Deucalion turned to Kali then to the male Alpha. “Right?” the two nodded.

“Stiles isn’t in a talking mood right now.” Scott said.

Deucalion kept the annoying smile on his face, “We’re Alphas. We don’t need his words, just his memories. Let us by and we will be on our merry, vengeful way.”

“No!” Derek and Scott growl in unison.

Silence passed through the evening air and Deucalion nods, “I had a feeling you might say that.” He twirled his cane playfully, “Matthias, if you would be so kind as to collect Boy Wonder.” His tone was a question but his words had a sliver of ice on them.

Matthias barely took a single step and Scott growled, “If you want him, you’re gonna have to go through us.”

Matthias’ red eyes flashed, “That’s the general idea.” He launched at Scott.

In his quest to overwhelm the younger werewolf with sheer strength, he sacrificed room for reaction. Scott was ready for him and he swiped out with razor sharp claws, sending him flying across. The Alpha still had brawn on his side, and despite the blow, he landed on his feet and doubled back.

Kali met Derek’s kick with one of her own, the claws on her feet caught the inside of his leg which brought a satisfied smile on her face. Derek countered with a head-butt followed by a rage-fuelled punch to her jaw.

Matthias caught blocked Scott’s next attack, grabbed his arm sank his claws in and with his other one slashed across his torso; making Scott bellow in pain. In a few moves, he reduced the front of Scott’s body to near ribbons. Before he went in for the kill, Derek shoved Kali away and moved to get Matthias away from Scott before he disembowelled him. 

Matthias smiled and relished the challenged of being ganged up on.

Instead of throwing herself back to the fight, Kali took a hint from Deucalion and trotted towards the entrance of the animal clinic where Deaton was closing in with the mountain ash. He blanched when she approached and in contrast with her ‘in your face take you completely out commission’, she growled at him and shoved him off his feet and past the barrier before it closed. Deaton recovered, rose and completed the circle. The plus side was that Kali wouldn’t be walking out with Stiles or anyone. The downside was that she was trapped inside with three defenceless teenagers.

Not the best-laid plan but sufficient until it wasn’t.

Inside, Kali stalked around, seeking out Stiles’ scent and found him along with Lydia and Diana. The two girls flinched when she stepped into the room.

“Seven devils!” Diana whined and backed towards Lydia. She grabbed her hand and shuffled towards Stiles. “This is one of those times I really wish I still had all my powers.” She mumbled and pressed a hand to her chest.

“Hello girls,” Kali crooned with a savage canine-filled smile.

“Stay back!” Lydia held out a hand.

Kali tilted her head, “You know what I’m after.” She tilted it the other way, “Hand him over and I might consider not hurting you.” She tapped her clawed foot on the tiled floor.

“Not on your life.” Diana shook her head.

Kali vaulted forward and Lydia reacted. Mid-air, Kali was met with Lydia’s concussive shriek and was sustained by the sound wave. She held out her hands and Kali was thrown backwards. Lydia’s scream ended and she took a deep breath.

“Whoa. What the—?” Diana’s eyes bulged out and looked at Kali’s nosebleed. 

“It won’t keep her down forever,” Lydia spoke quickly and shook her head, “We need to move before she wakes up.”

“And go where? There are two more Alphas outside and not many options for a way out.” She turned to Stiles’ sleeping form and shook her head, “They can’t have him. Even if they extract the memories painlessly, it will bring them back and...we don’t want a powerful Spark with emotional distress. That would be catastrophic.”

Lydia looked at Kali again, ready to rally another banshee scream, “She’s waking up, we need a plan.”

Diana thought for a full minute and closed her eyes, “I have a plan, but it is a terrible one and might not work.”

“I’ll take it if it gets us away from her,” Lydia answered in a rushed tone, she could hear her own pulse in her head.

“Take his arm and help me sit him up.” She hooked her arm through Stiles’ and waited for Lydia to do the same. Once they had Stiles sitting up with support, Diana closed her eyes again, “Please, Mother Rhiannon. Give me this.”

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked just as Kali’s eyes fluttered open.

"Praying," Diana also looked at Kali and hurriedly reached across Stiles to grab Lydia’s hand, “Brace yourself!” She yelled.

Kali forced herself to her feet in record time. Diana closed her eyes once again and rallied her winnowing magic, hoping the Mother heard her desperate and rushed prayer for help. Not that she had ever been answered.

Without any flashes of light or predictive noises, the three teenagers were folded through a heavy blanket of space as Diana sought to get as far as her magic would allow before stopping. The Mother’s gift reached its end somewhere with no ground under them and Diana looked around just in time for gravity to yank them onto the clinic’s roof.

They landed with a heavy thud and Stiles’ head lolled around from the impact.

Lydia looked around, “Are we—?”

A tired voice cut in, “So that’s why winnowing into the unknown is inadvisable. We’re lucky we weren’t embedded in the roof or wall!” she whooped a fatigued breath, “That would have gone very wrong.”

Lydia leaned forward to glance at Diana just in time to see her choke and cough up an unhealthy amount of blood. Diana looked at the blood staining the white collar of her dress and shining on the front of her dress, and nodded through the splitting headache, _“C’est juste. Je suis surpris que cela ne m’ait pas tué.”_ With that, her grip on Stiles loosened and she fell backwards, drifting from consciousness without a warning. _‘It’s only fair. I’m surprised it didn’t kill me’._

“Diana?” Lydia let go of Stiles and checked Diana’s pulse. Present. She was breathing too. Good.

On the plus side, Lydia figured Kali wouldn’t find them anytime soon. On the other side, no one would find them anytime soon. Lydia carefully walked across the roof to peer over the edge.

Isaac and Boyd had showed up at some point and had moved Scott away from the bulk of the fighting. Dr. Deaton hovered over him, closing his wound to help the healing along. Deucalion had stopped watching and started helping Matthias fight against the pack.

The pack was for the most part holding its own against two Alphas, one of whom had transformed into a terrifying beast that outweighed and outmatched them three to one. No wonder he was the Alpha of the Alpha Pack They wouldn’t last very long, not as they were.

Matthias pulled the same move on Isaac as he had on Scott but this time, Derek was pre-occupied with fighting Deucalion, So was Boyd. Eventually, Matthias would deliver a blow that would definitely end his life, supernatural healing or not.

To make matters worse, the roof access door opened and Kali came out heaving and seething. Her nose was still bleeding and Lydia’s scream had messed with her nervous system because she wobbled a bit when she walked.

“You bitch!” she snarled and extended her claws again.

Lydia moved away from the edge of the roof but got caught in Kali’s path. Kali grabbed her by the throat and started squeezing. “I was going to just take the spaz and leave but now, now I’m going to flay you alive just on principle!” Lydia grabbed at the hand slowly cutting off her air supply and tried to pry it off. “You are all idiots.” Kali sneered and enjoyed the shade of red that Lydia’s face was turning into, “We are trying to prevent a catastrophe here.” She lifted Lydia off the ground and squeezed harder. Lydia’s vision began to shimmer and blur around the edges and she slowly welcomed the soft brush of unconsciousness.

A bright flash of violet lit the early evening and Lydia dropped from Kali’s deadly grasp. She gulped lungfuls of air and clasped her neck protectively before opening her eyes to the strange light.

Stiles was apparently awake and on his feet. Somewhere between Lydia being in Kali’s claw-tipped hands and almost passing out, Stiles had woken up and reversed the positions. 

His hands closed around the Alpha’s neck and sent tendrils of lightning up her jaw and down her torso, earning a pained shriek from her. The lightning pulsed and beat through the air as it spread over her body. She glowed brighter and brighter with each second and just when she couldn’t get any brighter, Stiles swivelled and threw her off the roof and right on Matthias.

Matthias’ grip on Isaac loosened and Isaac ducked and rolled as Kali’s body hit. Derek, Boyd and Deucalion turned towards the blinding light and cleared the area just as Kali’s body splintered into a million billion pieces, taking Matthias with her.

In the aftermath, silence fell, almost as if a nuclear bomb had gone off. The area Kali had hit had a wide crater where luminescent purple flowers bloomed peacefully. All eyes followed where Kali’s body might have come from and found Stiles standing over the edge of the roof with glowing purple eyes.

Deucalion took one more look at Stiles and bolted from the clearing.

“Stiles.” Lydia’s voice was hoarse and not just because she was whispering.

Stiles turned to her, “Lydia?” then to the unconscious girl in the black dress. His frown deepened, “Diana? What?” he breathed then groaned in pain while grasping his head. “What?” he walked towards Lydia and looked at her with a confused look on her face.

“Where are we? What’s going on?” he rubbed his temple again. “I don’t understand.” He looked at her then turned to look at Diana.

“We’re at the Animal Clinic,” Lydia croaked, “More specifically, the roof.” She swallowed and immediately regretted it. “Diana brought us up here to get us away from Kali and the Alphas.”

Stiles turned to Diana, “I don’t understand.” He breathed again, his eyes weary. “Diana is dead. She died… a while ago. She…” he shook his head, “What’s going on?”

Lydia explained in as much concise detail before Stiles sighed and shook his head. Lydia touched Stiles’ arm, “We need to check on her, make sure she’s okay. Scott too.”

Past his disbelief, he looked at Diana. She was breathing and whole. There was no trace of the broken body that haunted his every moment, the amount of blood she had been covered in in the end and the lifeless eyes that had stared into nothing.

“Diana.” He whispered and crawled towards Diana. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead again, “Okay, let’s get out of here.” He mumbled and took Lydia’s and Diana’s hands and folded seamlessly through space.

They landed on the ground right next to Deaton who was still holding Scott’s torso together. Stiles’ winnowing was much smoother that Diana’s and Stiles didn’t seem to be having any side effects from it that Diana did. He reached out and touched Diana’s pale hair, a confused look still in his eyes. “Diana.” he whispered again.

“We need to get him inside, his wounds are taking too long to heal.” Deaton said to Derek and Isaac.

Stiles winced and rose to walk towards Scott and Dr. Deaton before Derek or Isaac got there. Silently, he knelt next to his friend and replaced Deaton’s hands with his own. His eyes glowed purple again and the vertical claw wounds on Scott’s chest and stomach knitted shut.

Deaton leaned away and looked at Stiles in wonder, “How…? This…”

He didn’t finish his awe-filled comment as Stiles’’ eyes turned back to their normal colour, rolled back in his eyes he slumped to the ground


	12. Chapter 12

_'It’s never the falling that kills, it’s the landing.'_

For weeks he had been falling.

Falling.

F-A-L-L-I-N-G.

The fall itself wasn’t scary. It was terrifying. There was no sound other than the face-peeling whoosh of air passing through his ears. His initial wish of a neverending fall got old very quickly in the void of empty. The possibility that he might fall forever began to feel like a reality. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the fall take him.

Then it happened.

The fall ended. And he hit bottom.

The impact knocked the breath out of him and rendered him unable to grunt, scream or gasp.

For long moments he lay there unmoving, waiting to see if his body survived the sudden impact. There was no pain, just shock. He blinked once, twice and exhaled. The next breath came easily and shaking hands pushed him upright. Okay, not hurt and not dead.

Now to figure out where he was.

It looked like some sort of hall, enormous. The walls were white and at least fifty feet high. The fluorescent lights that ran along the ceiling were so bright he could already feel a slow headache coming on.

He saw a small figure in the distance. Probably a mirage but that direction was as good as any. He stood and started to walk. Despite falling for what felt like thirty years, there was no pain, no injuries. If this was what witchcraft was, he could grow to like it, despite the price he paid.

He got close enough to see that the figure was indeed real. It was a boy, nine maybe ten years old. He sat cross-legged on the floor with what looked like an intricate set of buildings made from LEGO blocks. The buildings looked familiar to him, so did the action figures that populated them.

The boy picked one action figure and flew it across the building to kick the one that was there, soon the two toys were locked in a battle that was accompanied by action noises from the boy’s mouth.

He almost didn’t want to interrupt the boy but he had to ask, “Hey kid.”

The boy paused mid-kick and looked up at him, “Hello, Stiles.” he greeted.

Cold surprise passed through him and he rocked back on his feet. The boy’s dark floppy hair and bright caramel eyes were one thing but the moles on his cheeks and neck were a dead giveaway. He reached to his face to feel them unconsciously. It was him.

He must have been ten. It must have been around the time his mum started getting sick. He remembered seeing the stress in his dad’s face, the moments where his mother didn’t recognize him. The moments he decided to help matters by keeping busy and out of the way. His dad had had to focus on taking care of his mum and he didn’t need a kid getting in the way.

So Stiles had kept himself busy, made up games and played with his LEGOs.

He remembered the day he’d finished building this city, he was so proud of himself. It was also the day his mum flipped out and accused Stiles of trying to kill him. Standing there, Stiles could remember her shrieks of outrage and the cold shards in her eyes.

“You—you’re... you...you’re...” he stammered.

The boy gave him a kind smile, “You. Yes. Hello.” He waved.

“What is this?” Stiles looked around and back the boy. “Where am I?”

The boy gave a toothy smile and carefully set his action figures down, “I don’t listen well when people talk but,” he gave a thought, “I think this is our mind. Does that make sense? I don’t know what that means.” He giggled.

“Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t know.” He tapped his chin, “Once I had a dream I was driving a flying car with my best friend Scott. The car flew over the jungle gym and under the swings at the park.”

Stiles remembered that dream, he told his mum about it and she told him that if anyone could make a flying car, it was Stiles.

“How can I get out of here?”

The boy’s face fell, “You wanna go? Don’t you want to play Stilinski City Space Ninjas?” he had never been able to say the epic name quickly as a child but this manifestation of him said it perfectly.

The boy looked so adorable with his puppy eyes and bottom lip poking out but Stiles had to go.

“Sorry buddy, I can’t stay. My friends need me.”

The kid seemed to understand. He nodded and picked up one of his action figures, “Well, okay. Good luck, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I’m looking for a way out.” He said and looked around.

The kid put the action figure at the very top of the elaborate LEGO tower and stared at it, “The only way out is through,” he said and nudged the figure with his finger and the figure fell off the building.

Before Stiles could ask what the kid meant, he felt his ground shift and his body resume its fall. A scream bubbled in his chest but didn’t get the chance to be made known.

The brief descent did not make the landing any better than the previous one. His subconscious had to rethink the falling strategy; especially since he was dropped onto the same cavernous hall with white walls and bright fluorescent lights. He sat up and sighed heavily.

He needed to get out of here.

Once again, he rose to his feet and walked. This was ridiculous, whatever his subconscious wanted him to see, couldn’t it put up a huge Jumbotron sign?

Then next thing he came up with filled him with both joy and sorrow. He knew before he even got close.

It was his mother.

She sat on a bench with her hands on her lap. She wore her standard real estate agent outfit: navy pants, a powder blue shirt, white coat and brown shoes. Her hair wasn’t up in a ponytail today and she had her classic Mum smile on. 

Stiles remembered that day, it was one of the last moments with her before got sick. It had been parent-teacher conference day and his teacher had made a complaint about Stiles’ inability to sit still and pay attention in class, Stiles’ antics that often disrupted the whole class and of course Stiles’ uncanny ability to ask question after question after question when a teacher tried to speak. Mrs Reid had very subtly suggested that Stiles get tested for ADD or ADHD because his behaviour would not be tolerated much longer.  
A remorseful Stiles had sat on that bench with his mother, knowing that she wouldn’t yell but wishing she would.

His mother looked up and smiled, “My little Mischief, all grown up. Come sit, we’ll talk.”

Stiles knew she was talking to him but his feet were glued to the floor. His mother gave him a fabric softener smile again, “It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Stiles shook his head, this was not what he needed. His mother’s death was an event that was glossed over in his mind. Every time he, his father or anyone had mentioned Claudia Stilinski, his mind seemed to do the ‘plug your ears and hum lalalalala’ routine over and over again. He wasn’t in denial about this and he wasn’t overcome with grief but that didn’t mean it was a subject he brought up lightly. It didn’t help that he looked so much like her but it somehow made her loss slightly bearable.

“Sit, sweetheart, sit.” She coaxed again and tapped the empty spot next to her on the bench.

The only way out is through. His mind wouldn’t let him leave until he got through with this.

He took a breath and sat down next to his mother. In turn, she smiled and ran her hand through his hair. “How are you?”

“What is this?” He raised his head to look around but stopped when he remembered that he was in the middle of nowhere in his mind.

His mother paused for a beat then answered, “A talk we should have had, had I not...”

“...died?” Stiles cut her off.

“I know you’re angry with me for not telling you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not angry.”

She took his hand, “You are and that’s okay. This is a lot to spring on anyone.”

“Were you really going to tell me?” He almost glanced at her. “Had you still been alive?”

Her voice lowered, “Of course. It’s just... you were so young. So powerful, I feared everything would come for you.”

He shrugged, “Why would they? I mean, I don’t seem to know how to do a whole lot.”

His mother smiled sadly, “Oh honey, you don’t know how to do a whole lot yet. When your magic was forced awake, only the kind that is most adept at keeping you alive was woken. The rest is still dormant.”

He lifted his head and pointedly looked around, “That’s why I’m here.”

She nodded, “You need to wake the rest of it.”

He closed his eyes, “But dad said it had to be my choice.”

She placed a hand on his back, “It did. And if things had gone to plan, it would have been. I hate that the decision was made for you but there is no going back now.”

Deep down, he knew that. He knew the first time the searing energy had cracked his soul open that he would never be the same.

“What if things had gone to plan, and I just said no?” A part of him still wished he could go back to when he was an uncoordinated, hyperactive, nosy teenager who was terrible at lacrosse.

She moved her hand in slow circles on his back, “Then I would have respect that decision. If I didn’t want you to have a choice, I would not have sealed your power.”

He shrugged, “Maybe that was a good idea. Think of all the ways I could have wreaked havoc.” A playful glint crossed his eyes.

His mum laughed, “Oh Mrs Reid would not have stood a chance.”

“I guess I understand. But how do my powers work? I mean, I tend to either vaporize or electrocute everything around me.”

His mother smiled and petted his hair, “There’s a reason it called witchcraft. Some things will come naturally but the rest must be learned and practised. My books will help you. Alan has them.”

Lights flickered overhead. He had completely forgotten where he was, “What will it—?”

She glanced at the flickering lights then back at her son, “Honey, you’re waking now. I don’t know how much of this conversation you’ll retain. Go now. Your friends need you.”

His eyes widened, “What?! Already?! But there is so much I want to ask you! Say to you!”

Her smile remained calm and kind, “I know sweetheart. The most important thing for you to remember is how much I love you, my little Mischief.” She kissed his hair.

Calm passed through him, “I love you too, mum.”

The floor disintegrated again and he fell through the crater. The darkness returned during his descent and found himself on a roof under a dusky night sky.


End file.
